Suffocating Sin
by Maia's Pen
Summary: When Professor Gary Oak inherits a deep cave archeological expedition from his late mentor, he's forced to come face-to-face with fears and feelings darker than the bowels of the earth. Gary never could have imagined the evil he would unearth within the dark caverns, within his friends . . . or within himself. Pokeshipping (Ash x Misty), Egoshipping (Gary x Misty).
1. Prologue

Author's Note & Disclaimer: Welcome to 'Suffocating Sin'! Please be advised that this is not a story for the kids. This fiction is rated 'M for Mature' due to scare-factor and sexy-factor. This story will feature a classic-yet-not-so-classic love triangle between Ash Ketchum, Misty Waterflower and Gary Oak. If you don't like any of these matchups, or 'adult situations' / 'scary monsters' make you squirm, I advise skipping this story. ;) BUT, if you are open to a spooky-sexy-mystery then . . . LET'S GO! I am oh-so thrilled to have you onboard! This story is very much a 'work in progress'. I have spent several months drafting chapters, now it's time to 'put it out there' and see if anyone wants to join my imagination on a new Pokemon adventure! I am anticipating 15-18 chapters and hope you'll join me for the long-haul! xo Maia's Pen

Cover Art: By the incomparable Wooserr. Stay tuned for more art specific to this story as the tale unfolds. Check my website, link in bio.

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Suffocating Sin

By Maia's Pen

Prologue

When Gary Oak was five-years-old his gramps asked him to do a 'big boy' errand. The errand itself was straightforward: go into the cellar and fetch a jar of pickles. This would be Gary's first time going into the cellar alone, without gramps to hold his hand. But, Gary _was _a big boy. Heck, he was half way to ten years! Half way to getting his very own pokemon! And, maybe, retrieving the pickles from _down there _would prove to gramps that he was brave. And not only _brave, _but _responsible too_! Perhaps responsible enough to have a pokemon earlier than the other kids who lived in his neighborhood.

Little Gary didn't like the cellar. It was damp, dark, dingy and smelled like mold. Yucky mold that was so moldy it was growing its own mold. But he very much liked the idea of showboating his starter pokemon around the other kids, especially Ashy. By the time Ashy was old enough to have a pokemon, Gary could already be a top contender! Maybe he'd even be _THE POKEMON MASTER! _The youngest one ever!

Puffing his chest like he'd seen gramps' Machop do, Gary opened the cellar door and clicked the light-switch. The old electrical system whined to life. The twenty wooden steps seemed to flicker in and out of focus, as though Gary were waking up from a nap and his eyes were still fuzzy. Eventually the electricity stabilized and the stairs were spotlighted by a steady florescent glow.

It still seemed a bit dark at the bottom of the stairs, but big boys weren't afraid of the dark. Gary held his head high and began descending the steps. He tread as gently as he could. Of course there was nothing to be scared of —no evil demons lived in gramps' basement— and gramps had even told Gary that the cellar was clear of demons. Gramps said the only things that lived down there were his pickle jars.

But . . . there was nothing wrong with tip-toeing, just in case. After all, sometimes gramps couldn't find his reading glasses when they were on his face, so he may have accidentally overlooked a demon.

Going underground was creepy. By step number twelve Gary had decided that: dark, damp, dingy cellars that smelled like moldy mold were exactly the sort of awful places that demons liked to take naps. It was best to be on guard.

As Gary cleared the final step, he inwardly applauded himself. He'd made it all the way to the bottom as silently as a Haunter. The shelving unit ahead was his target. The unit boasted row after row (taller than gramps!) lined with pickle jars. If Gary pretended he was large like a Blastoise, and took a few giant steps, then he'd be at the pickles in no time. And so Gary flared his nostrils and snorted, imagining a powerful Water Gun attack was at the ready! Evil demons beware!

Gary took one long stride toward the pickles and . . .

**_Darkness._**

The cellar lighting died.

Not even a flicker remained to cling to light.

Just instant, all-encompassing dark.

Gary stared ahead into _nothing. _

Was there a power-failure?

Was it his sister, May, playing a cruel joke?

Had gramps really, truly failed to notice a demon?

_An evil demon?!_

Gary spun in place. Every direction forced the same scene upon his eyes. It was blacker then when May would shove a pillowcase over his face and tickle him. He dared a step backward—arms outstretched—fingers searching—frantic—feeling for the stair railing!

But there was nothing there.

Had Gary turned the wrong direction? His eyes were open, right?! Gary touched his lashes with his fingertips. _Yes! _His eyes were both open. They were wide open. Why couldn't he see anything?

The opposite way then, he'd go there. Gary's fingers again sought the familiar stair railing. He found the cold cement wall. But which of the four walls was this? Was he even near the stairs? Had he somehow traveled across the room? Gary skimmed his fingers along the wall. If he just kept going forward he would eventually circle the entire room and find the stairs. This was a trick gramps had once taught Gary, and he was ever-so-thankful he'd paid attention!

Smooth-and-cold-smooth-and-cold-smooth-and-cold-smooth-and-cold-_bumpy-and-hot—_

Gary's small hand retracted as though he'd touched flame! He staggered backward, falling hard on his behind. He grit his teeth, refusing to cry out and scrambled to his feet. His heart hammered against his ribcage like an alarmed Marowak. Sweat-beads rolled down his cheeks — or were those tears?

_No,_ big boys didn't cry. Pokemon Masters were not afraid of the dark or even evil demons! But he did need someone to turn on the lights; he needed to know _what_ was down here with him! And so Gary opened his mouth to call for his gramps.

No words came out. Gary's mouth was dry like he'd just scarfed down an entire bag of salty popcorn. His jaw was clenched—his throat was tightening—why was he breathing like he'd just come up from the water? Was the evil demon lurking closer? Watching him—-stalking him—-waiting for the perfect moment to seize him and eat him raw?!

The lighting buzzed back on.

The entire cellar flooded with light like a Blastoise hosing a teacup.

Gary was only a few steps from the stairwell and he was alone in the cellar, pickle jars aside. The jars sat patiently upon their shelves, waiting to be be chosen like starter pokemon. Gary snatched the closest jar, imagined he were a prize-winning Rapidash, and bolted up the stairs.

The next time gramps wanted pickles, Little Gary bribed the Machop to get them.

Twenty years later and Professor Gary Oak continued to harbor a strong dislike for cellars in general. After the 'dark cellar incident', gramps had assured him that an electrical fluctuation was to blame. That sort of thing sometimes happened in older homes. Gramps also said that Gary had imagined the change in wall texture. Gary's logical adult mind recognized the situation for what it was. He accepted gramps' explanation. He _was _a scientist after all, and understood that his childhood self had experienced textbook disorientation and claustrophobia.

Despite rationalizing the experience, it remained like a dull itch inside of his skull. An itch that flared up whenever he attempted actives held underground. As a youthful pokemon trainer, sometimes Gary's journey would lead him to a mountain pass. He would always try to find an excuse to drive around the mountain verses venture through it — even if it added days to reaching his destination. Mountain passes, subways, basements—_whatever_. He didn't like them. The last time Gary went into any basement he was fourteen. A pretty girl had lured him down so they could hide from her father. She had promised to jar _his _pickle_. _It didn't work out. His pickle was too creeped out and failed him. Failed him for the one and only time in his life.

Henceforth Gary had avoided any visits to the underground. Eleven straight years on top of the soil!

And yet today, Gary found himself venturing into the mother-of-all-cellars._ Literally. _He was undergoing a deep cave expedition.

Mother Nature had gramps' basement beat.

Only now did Gary finally learn what darkness looked like.

What darkness felt like.

What darkness smelled like.

The suffocating-utter-nothingness made gramps' basement seem like an amusement park.

Many eager girls had called Gary a '_big boy' _over the years, but he sure didn't feel like one now. Hell, if Machop was a paleontologist, then Gary would have bribed him to do this job too.

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Author's Note: Stage is set. Please review! Reviews feed my Muse and make me SMILE. ^_^ xo Maia's Pen


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"I know it's none of my business, Oliver, but what the hell were you doing? You're a married man an-and—_ah_!" Gary stumbled over his words. Better his words than his feet. He hadn't noticed the rocks until he was about to step _into _them. Oliver's flashlight beat the shadows back just-in-time to keep Gary upright and his tongue still.

Stepping into this cave was like entering the mouth of a gigantic prehistoric Onix. Every footfall dooming Gary further down the beast's throat — oppressive blackness consuming him like stomach acid.

Just being underground had Gary's adrenaline in overdrive, and nearly falling over . . . that misstep hit his system like an angry Electabuzz. The young professor paused to exhale, ignoring his companion's amused grunt. But Oliver's tone evolved from amused to vexed as he accessed the terrain before them.

The two professor's flashlights combined to reveal dozens of rock formations — all protruding from the cave floor like distorted gravestones. Gary always had an overactive imagination when it came to darkness, and he couldn't deny that the rocks resembled an army of petrified Digletts.

"You okay, Oak?" At seventy-years-old Oliver still had a strong baritone voice. His voice was amplified by the cave's acoustics, echoing like a Golem's roar about the rock walls. The senior professor was a good ten paces ahead of Gary, but sounded like his mouth was upon his ear. "Oak, it's not like you to leave a sentence unfinished . . ." Oliver halted, his own sentence lost to the cave. The old man turned toward a narrow (highly uninviting) passageway. "It's this way," he continued, and began navigating through the Diglett-gravestone-labyrinth. Oliver recited footsteps taken on previous visits to the cave. "Hurry up, Oak," the older professor grumbled rock-pokemon-style again.

Thinking about rock pokemon . . . Gary wondered why he hadn't noticed any inhabiting this cave? As far as he had observed it was vacant of any pokemon life. Gary hadn't seen so much as a common Zubat or Geodude. Granted, it was so damn dark that (even with his flashlight) Gary was straining to see more than a foot in front of his face. The young professor shivered and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. The temperature was undeniably dropping as he and Oliver continued to descend. But the source of his chill was not singular. Having his flashlight wholly swallowed by darkness was horrifying. He should have brought Arcanine along. Gary's fire dog would have lit this cavern up like his own smile in a room of girls. He did have one Pokeball in his pocket: Eevee (as she went everywhere he did), but Gary knew that Eevee's specific move-set did not offer anything to aid with this ever-narrowing cavern. If he was ever unfortunate enough to come back here, he would certainly bring a few more pokemon with him.

"Ah, ya smell that, kid? The bowels of the earth! Glorious!" Oliver inhaled loudly with admiration.

Gary wrinkled his nose, unable to appreciate the caves olfactory stimuli like his companion did. To him it was nearly unbreathable — a suffocating concoction of damp, musky, dirty darkness. A darkness so thick he was breathing it. The blackness seemed to press against Gary, as though trying to force him backward toward the surface.

The professor duo had already committed ten minutes to traveling this narrow cave passageway. Oliver promised that _The Moltralous Cavern_ was only another twenty minuets journey ahead. A journey were they continued down. . .

. . . down . . .

. . . down . . .

. . . down . . .

. . . further into this natural tomb.

"Dammit," Gary cursed, bumping his head on a different variety of petrified-Diglett-rock-things. Gary Oak was not a geologist. Gary Oak was no spelunker. He could not identify a single type of rock around him. Rock-type pokmeon, sure, Gary was an expert. But he was baffled by these newly bulging rock formations that seemed to defy gravity — growing downward from the ceiling like hanging Zubats. It was challenging enough to avoid tripping hazards, now he had to to duck under them too!

Maybe Gary wasn't a geology expert but, at twenty-five, he did have a doctorate degree to his credit. Seven years ago he had completed his PhD in Pokemon Paleontology. His passion for fossils was nurtured daily. This field of expertise was the reason he was here now — spending his Saturday dodging Diglett-shaped rock towers and trying to hide his life-long-anxiety-of-the-dark-underground from Oliver.

Gary was here as a favor to Oliver. Gary could never deny a favor to the old man. He owed his mentor far too much. After all, without Professor Oliver Frank's guidance Gary would not be the successful researcher he was today. Gary's career breakthrough was due to an opportunity bestowed upon him by Oliver.

Oliver was the world's leading archeological expert on the Moltralous. The Moltralous were a race of indigenous Kanto people, the first to ever domesticate pokemon. These ancient people migrated their civilization across Kanto for ages, before meeting extinction four-thousand-years ago. The Moltralous befriend, trained and worked side-by-side with pokemon— and did so thousands of years before the invention of the pokeball. Moltres was their patron deity, and they were obsessed with carving and painting the firebird's likeness upon every rock they could find.

Five years ago Oliver discovered traces of a Moltralous village just south of Fuchsia City. Oliver invited Gary to come along and help him catalogue the findings. Although Oliver was an archeologist of human civilizations and Gary a paleontologist of pokemon, their mutual interest in the Moltralous people united their skillsets. Because the Moltralous lived with pokemon, there was potential to unearth fossils of unknown species anyplace they used to dwell. And Gary Oak was not one to miss a fossil-hunting opportunity!

Oliver tasked Gary to brush off and photograph a series of Moltres rock carvings. These particular rock carvings only mildly interested Gary ('_you've seen one carving of a person bowing to Moltres, you've seen them all'). _However, Gary's paleontology-pipe-dream became reality . . . he discovered the fossil of a new pokemon species.

The young professor was dusting off another Moltres-enthusiast art piece when . . ._ there it was!_ Imbedded in the rock wall was the fossil of a near perfect cuspid. At first glance it looked like an old Vulpix fang, but Gary (being his anal-obsessive-self) cleaned and thoroughly examined the cuspid. It was not a Vulpix tooth, nor a tooth belonging to any pokemon Gary had ever seen. A few minuets later and Gary had found the trace fossil of a single paw print — it belonged to a small canine! And next he found several bones — carpals, ribs and even a partial skull! Gary wanted to blast off —Team Rocket style— and launch into the universe—to victory lap the planet until he burst! Gary would not apologize for his over-the-top fossil passion, he owned it! He lived to nerd-out over fossils, and he enjoyed searching for them even more than sex—_ no . . . no _. . . that wasn't true. Sex was most certainly better. But fossil hunting held a respectable second place.

As soon as Gary showed Oliver the cuspid, the older professor was on his phone and —by the end of the day—the top paleontologists from around the globe had traveled to the site. These senior scientists were _'ohhhing'_ and _'aweeeeing'_ over Gary and his discovery. It was confirmed that this creature was indeed a previously undiscovered pokemon species!

Gary might not have physically skyrocketed into outer space to circle the world, but thanks to social media his fame spread across it. Gary made every national headline. Nowhere else _on _the earth had any proof of this creature been found. Nowhere else _on the earth _. . . and that was the other reason why Gary was now traveling _underneath the earth._

In addition to being indebted to Oliver for a great-many things, Gary's life-mission was to find additional fossils of _his _pokemon. He yearned to discover a spec of viable DNA evidence. Even a hair follicle would be enough! Gary aimed to genetically recreate his monster, just like Kabuto, Aerodactyl, and so many others after them. He called his pokemon "Oak Canine 1" —better referred to as "OC1" in the paleontology world. Not a very creative title, but he certainly could not know OC1's proper name until it introduced itself to him and spoke its own name out loud. That was a moment that Gary dreamed of — attaining the seemingly unattainable. He had a knack for lusting after the unattainable.

"Are we close to _The Moltralous Cavern _yet?" Gary asked Oliver, well-aware that his teeth were chattering.

"What's the rush, kid? Take some time to enjoy this incredible view. Mother Nature at her sexiest!"

"Sexiest?" Gary did not hide his confusion. Were Oliver's senior-citizen eyes functioning properly? Could Oliver see some sort of wondrous sights he could not? The inside of a coffin was probably more eye-pleasing than this cave, and certainly it was warmer.

This alleged 'thirty minute walk' seemed unending. Oliver usually moved pretty quickly for his age, but right now he trudged along like an overweight Slowpoke. The man was breathing heavily and Gary caught a whiff of his body odor as he drew near. Even in the sparse artificial light Oliver looked terrible. Gary had noticed bags under his eyes in the daylight, which were somehow accentuated by the dark. The man had lost at least three pant-sizes and —apparently— the desire to maintain personal hygiene. Oliver had always been clean-shaven and immaculately dressed; he took pride in his appearance. Usually Oliver could have passed for Gary's father. But today he looked like his great-great-great grandfather's mummy. Unkempt gray hair stuck out in straggly patches across his head and face. His skin tone was ashen at best.

Oliver's physical semblance was not the most disturbing change either. His behavior today at breakfast was . . .

"Speaking of 'sexy'—", Gary redirected his focus back onto his married friends earlier inappropriateness. "—our sexy waitress. Again, I know it's none of my business, but I am legit disturbed. You were offensive toward her, Oliver. Asking her about the diameter of her _'pancakes'_? Asking her if _she _was on the menu? That you wanted to _devour her raw?_ _Really?_ What the hell was that? You're a married man."

Oliver's dark eyes narrowed into slits. "Bonnie and I have been married for fifty-five years, Oak. I might be old, but I'm still a hotblooded man. I've wasted fifty-five years being a textbook monogamous, dutiful husband! And how many children do I have to show for it? NONE! How many nights of sexual thrills? NONE! My wife is as dry and vanilla as a damn cookie wafer. I've been sexually liberated of late, kid! I'm collecting girls in my bed like pokemon in a pokedex. I've been taking charge! I get it rough and dirty. Always, always, always—"

"Stop it!" Gary shouted. His voice ricocheted like an audible bullet about the cave, causing them both to wince. "For Mew's-sake, Oliver, does Bonnie know you're cheating on her?" Gary had to look away from his companion — this feeling of shame was foreign and horrible, like someone had surgically removed his intestines and replaced them with writhing Ekans.

Oliver was a kind-hearted, compassionate old man. Oliver always behaved like gentleman and a model citizen. How could he stand in front of Gary and speak like a total nympho? Disrespecting and betraying his loyal wife of over fifty years?!

Over the decade that Gary had known Oliver, the man had never so much as raised his voice to another living creature. Oliver had always been a genteel sounding board — a moral compass for Gary's professional and personal life. Oliver had never criticized Gary, only encouraged him with the same steadfast devotion as his own gramps. What the hell had changed Oliver so drastically over the past month?

"_Does Bonnie know_?" Oliver mocked Gary's inquiry. "HAA! Of course, she does. She might look like an old Zubat but she's not blind as one. Bonnie's usefulness has expired. Don't ask me stupid questions. You outta be smarter than that, Oak—_oh,_ and don't look at me so shocked and judgmentally! How many times have _you_ two-timed on your girls? Dated several at once? You hypocritical brat!"

"I've never been married." Gary defended, glaring up at the older man. Oliver's demeanor could reduce a Charizard to tears, but Gary refused to flinch. Instead he hit Oliver with his best impression of his Nidoking, mid-Leer attack.

"I've got a foot in the grave, kid, get off my back. I wanna enjoy myself before I look like this guy." Oliver smiled as though he were making a joke. The old man raised his flashlight and illuminated a cave drawing of an ancient figure. The figure's expression was drawn into an immediately-recognizable scream of terror. This expression was understandable . . . since the figure was drawn hanging from noose. The figure's neck was clearly snapped as it hung limply over his shoulder.

Gary choked back a gasp — both at the awful image and at Oliver's smile. The old man was genuinely delighted by the art. He actually looked like himself again: the proud man who grinned from ear-to-ear when Gary earned his PhD. Why would this freaky cave drawing make him beam with pride? Was Oliver experiencing a midlife crisis? Like . . . a midlife crisis delayed by a few decades?

"Astonishing, isn't it?" Oliver sighed with bliss and mumbled: "Always, always, always."

"Astonishingly creepy, yes," Gary shifted uncomfortably and rerouted their conversation back onto Oliver's adultery. "I'm honestly more astonished by your behavior. I thought that you were happily married. I thought Bonnie meant everything to you and that you respected her. By Zapdos, Oliver, that waitress was younger than me."

"Yeah, well," Oliver grinned a very-eerie-un-Oliver-grin. "It's not like you were makin' a move, Oak. You didn't seem interested. She was fair game. Though I have to say," Oliver sneered, chucking to himself, "I'm surprised you didn't make a move."

"Why's that?"

"Tight ass, nice tits, and _red hair_. Your type right?"

"I don't know what you mean."

Oliver held his flashlight directly under his chin 'ghost-story style' — insurance that Gary would not miss his dramatic eye-roll. "I'm an archaeologist, Oak. I translate long-hidden secrets as a profession. You can't hide shit from me."

Gary clenched his jaw. He knew his cheeks were flushing. Whether or not Oliver could see him redden didn't matter. Even in the dark the senior professor could read him like a child's storybook.

Until this morning Gary had thought he knew Oliver as well as he knew his own gramps. He trusted him. He respected him. And Gary did not hesitate when Oliver called him last night asking him for help . . . even knowing that the help involved going underground. Oliver asked Gary to be his personal assistant on this 'Ancient Moltralous' project. Oliver's previous assistant had quit without notice, leaving the old man with a mountain of research too great for one great mind.

Oliver picked Gary up this morning and the two stopped for breakfast on the way to the archeology site. It was nearly a six hour drive west from Viridian City. Gary had not seen Oliver in a month, not since the old man had accepted this job. And Oliver was so dedicated to this job that he spent every possible minute right here — inside this cave.

Only now Gary knew that Oliver had another pastime. A scandalous one that involved fornicating with random women.

Aside from appearing exhausted, Oliver had behaved normally and was quite chatty over the long commute from Viridian to the cave. But the moment he set his eyes on that young waitress he was a distracted, horny mess.

Gary reached into is pocket and retrieved Eevee's pokeball. Oliver was creeping him out. The darkness was creeping him out. He decided now was a good time to have a non-creepy friend on the scene.

"Vee?" Eevee emerged in a scarlet blaze, momentarily igniting the darkness. Gary scarcely made out her adorable head tilt.

"Hey, Eevee. Thought you might wanna join in on the cave exploration." Gary smiled at her, and knew that her keen pokemon eyes could see his greeting.

Gary shone his flashlight on the cave wall to his right. His stomach instantly reeled with nausea. Was it the undercooked eggs at breakfast? The fact that his mentor was a scumbag? Or the fact that this cave wall showcased more drawings than natural stone? The drawings were heinous — all of them. The broken-neck-noose-figure he'd seen earlier was not a 'stand-alone' piece. Primitive drawings of genderless humans strangling, drowning and hanging one another were everywhere. The number of barbarous wall decorums out-numbered the pokemon on gramps' ranch. These were totally abnormal cave drawings for the Moltralous people to have created. Gary had only ever seen images of figures riding on pokemon, bowing to Moltres, going fishing, bowing to Moltres, picking berries or - yep - bowing to Moltres. Never once a singular act of violence.

Gary couldn't look away from the carnage because nearly every inch of cave wall was a canvass for execution. On some areas hieroglyphics from the Moltralous' primitive writing system accompanied the art. Gary recognized a few symbols — the ones for _'mercy' _ and _'woe' _were standouts. There were even drawings of ancient pokemon. Some of the species Gary recognized: like Onxi and Kabutops, but then . . . there were several others that he had never seen before!

Not so much as a fossil!

Gary's inner-poke-nerd granted him a flash of excitement — _this _was why he was here! Could one of these drawings be of OC1? He needed to come back here with a high-powered night camera—he needed to capture every single image! Then he would blow them up on his computer and compare any anatomical likenesses to his OC1 fossils! He couldn't wait! _Right here_ —in this cave— Gary had the potential of unearthing evidence of OC1 _AND_ maybe even dozens of other unknown species!

Eevee whined quietly. Her pathetic cry suctioned the fossil fuel from Gary's enthusiasm. His pokemon lowered her ears nervously; her brown eyes darting about the wall.

Realization hit Gary: he, Eevee and Oliver were not just standing in any ancient cave — _this _was _The Moltralous Cavern_. They had reached their destination at last: this cavern was the last known point on earth where evidence of the Moltralous people had been found. They had once thrived _right here_. And then, four-thousand-years ago, they simply vanished. And if these cave drawings were any indication as to _how _they met their end . . . it wasn't pretty. These Moltralous artists went to great effort to recreate the executions of their people on these walls. The artists had obviously hoped that their story would be preserved for future generations. Did the Moltralous know that they were documenting their own extinction?

Eevee squirmed her way in-between Gary's boots, nearly tripping him like a Diglett rock. He scooped her into his arms and she nuzzled against his chin.

Oliver spotlighted the cuddling human-pokemon duo and scoffed. "You still haven't evolved that thing?"

"That _thing_?" Gary questioned, certain he had misheard Oliver.

"I was hoping that puny pup might make for a Jolteon. We could use the light right about now. Take out your Thunder Stone and evolve it already."

Eevee sniffled, pressing her nose against Gary's chest.

"Since when do you have a problem with Eevee?" Gary's temper was fraying. "You need to apologize to her. You've hurt her feelings."

Oliver laughed bitterly. "Ha. I'll do nothing of the sort. You carry around every possible evolution stone in that backpack of yours, Oak, and you've yet to use a single one. You're the dumbest professor I know."

"Lay off," Gary warned. "Eevee is happy as she is."

"Then why carry the stones?"

"They're for emergencies. Did you hit your head or somthin'? You already know this."

"Yeah, yeah, your stupid pact. Evolution for emergencies, blah blah blah."

"I'm the pokemon expert here, not you. So lay off."

Oliver appeared to be stifling a laugh, but Gary couldn't be certain of the man's expression (without blasting the direct beam of his flashlight upon Oliver's face anyway, which was tempting right about now).

"Hey, Oak, they'll find you, they _will _find you."

Gary didn't hamper the annoyance in his tone: "What? Who? Who will find me?"

"That's the answer. I haven't translated the question yet. But, Oak, _they will find you."_

"Well, that's not random and creepy to say or anything. Are you getting dementia? What's the matter with you? We need to get outta this cave and get your ass to a doctor." Gary closed the distance between himself and his mentor. The old man began pinching the skin between his eyebrows as though he wanted to peel his own face off. "Oliver? Are you okay? Seriously, you're freaking me out . . . you need a doctor."

"You are a doctor, Oak."

"You need a medical doctor."

Oliver continued to pinch his face, his fingers migrating about, assaulting himself from eyebrows to chin. "I only need simple things now and always, always . . . Natural things. I only need the face inside . . . beneath my skin . . . I . . . I . . . have a headache, Oak. Being around you gives me a damn headache!" Oliver covered his face with his hands like a toddler desperately trying to hide from his father's dissatisfaction.

Gary flinched as though Oliver had pinched _his_ face. What in Kanto was going on? What was he babbling about? Did he hit his head . . . was he on drugs . . . did he contract some 'Super STD' that was affecting his brain?!

"You!" Oliver dramatically jabbed a finger into Gary's chest as though he were trying to squash an insect. Eevee had to duck to evade the assault. "Why don't you just take what you want!? Take it! Take it! TAKE IT!"

Even in the dark Gary could see a vein throbbing within Oliver's forehead. The man's face was flush and sweat dribbled down his brow.

Gary set down Eevee and his flashlight. He positioned the flashlight upon its end so the beam went straight up, casting the trio beneath an umbrella of scant light. With his hands free Gary grabbed Oliver by his shoulders and gently shook his frame. "Calm down, old man, I don't wanna 'take' anything."

Oliver shook out of Gary's grasp, spitting cuss words like poison. "I know you've got a hard-on for _his_ girlfriend."

Gary stiffened, releasing his grip on Oliver's shoulders. "Stop it."

"Why? Why should I stop? I'm looking out for you. I've always looked out for you! I practically handed you OC1 on a silver platter, for Mew's-sake! My advice has never let you down before. Don't be such an ingrate! But that's just you, Oak, isn't it? Always, always, always. So why should I stop—!?"

Gary snapped Oliver's sentence like the drawn figure's neck. "Because you don't know what you're talking about. I don't think you even know who you are anymore."

"I know everything, kid, the question aside, of course. I know about the guardian of this cave, in fact, you should be quite nervous . . . venturing so deep into a darkness that's not yours to explore. In fact-" Oliver paused to smile, the way his eyes glinted instantly put Gary on edge. "-I know you are quite nervous indeed. Little _Gary doesn't like the darkness, does he_?"

Oliver's verbal sucker-punch had the same physiological effect as a real one. His words nailing Gary like a syringe of adrenaline straight to the heart! Gary's abdominal muscles clenched-knees buckled-mouth agape-eyes wide-heartbeat accelerated-his very arm hair at attention! Gary fought for balance - for breath -_what the hell did Oliver just say?! _

Below him Eevee started to growl. As though oblivious to Eevee's upset, Oliver continued. His words were near-silence as they seethed between his teeth: "These cave drawings are warnings, you know. The ancient Moltralous were a simple tribe; they sought red ocher to make art. And so they and their pokemon dug and dug deeper and deeper into the earth. But the drawings are clear, kid, so very clear . . . be careful how far down you dig, because you never know what you might find. Always, always, always."

"Shut up, Oliver! Stop saying that!" Gary yelled far louder than he had intended, struggling to rationalize Oliver's freakishly disturbing words. Gary had never confided in Oliver about his fear of the underground. But Oliver had been throwing a lot of 'creepy darts' in past few minutes . . . did he just happen to hit Gary's target? Why had he been so specific in saying 'Little Gary'?

Big Gary cursed loudly, willing the contents of his stomach to remain right-where-the-hell they were. Then he cursed a second time - ordering his own feet not to run for the sun. It was only his love for Oliver that grounded his body (and sanity) to the rocky earth. "We need to leave. Now. You need a doctor. I'm taking you to the nearest hospital for a damn brain scan. I'm concerned you may have a tumor or are on drugs, Mew knows! Something is affecting your behavior."

"Something is, you're right. You'll find out soon, kid." Oliver's eyes were like scrutinizing searchlights upon Gary. "Tell me, what makes you feel more powerful? Causing pleasure or causing pain? I can't get enough of either. Always, always, always." Oliver's gaze went blank and lazily drifted from his protege and toward the cave wall.

It was like the old man had forgotten Gary was even in the cave with him. Oliver was wholly entranced by the wall, and lit it up with his own flashlight. Oliver gaped at the wall as though a Hypno had compelled him to do so. Gary followed his gaze to a series of hieroglyphs. Oliver was fluent in translating the bizarre symbols, and he had taught Gary a great deal of what he knew. But Gary could rarely outright read the Moltralous' signs. He usually had to take home photos of symbols and invest time into translating them. Oliver would guide Gary's translations, but refused to simply _tell him_ what the ancient messages were saying. Oliver always said:_ the_ _most effective way to figure out Moltralous was to figure out Moltralous on his own._

Oliver traced the signs with his fingers. Stroking them with such raw tenderness —akin to how Gary would pet Eevee's head. "This is what I wanted to show you, kid." Oliver's voice was again that confident-booming-baritone. Oliver-the-creepy-nympho-lunatic had subsided. "Amazing, isn't it? My entire career has been spent researching these people, just trying to find out what happened to them. And just when I think I've begun to solve their mystery, they continue to surprise me."

Without realizing it Gary had leaned forward to consider Oliver's symbols. He recognized the style as Moltralous, but these signs were foreign. Unlike the other hieroglyphics in the cave —which were carved or painted with care— this series was a disorganized hodgepodge. It looked as though someone had hastily scratched them into the wall.

Curiosity thieved all other emotions from Gary's system. His scientific-mind began operating at Rapidash-speeds as he considered who had made these marks . . . and why the symbols were all unfamiliar to him . . . what was Oliver's expert opinion on the origin? And, why the hell was Gary even wasting time looking at these?! He needed to focus! He needed to get Oliver to a doctor at once! The Moltralous had waited thousands of years for their cave to be discovered, and they could wait another day for Gary to decipher their message. He and Oliver were getting out of this hellhole. NOW.

Gary turned toward Oliver.

Oliver crumpled to the cave floor like a K.O.'d pokemon.

The old man never cried out.

Eevee wailed with alarm — but Gary could not comfort her— his own body was tending to Oliver . . .

. . . chest-compressions . . .

. . . smelling salts . . .

. . . coaching the old man to_ 'please, please hang on' . . . _

But all of Gary's life-saving efforts were in vain.

Professor Oliver Frank was dead before he hit the dirt.

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NOTE: Posting this on Halloween felt quite appropriate. ;) Many hours were poured into this beast of an intro chapter . . . the stage is all set . . . a review would mean a great deal. I write in hopes that someone out there in the world will read and enjoy! All the best, Maia's Pen


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Three weeks later . . ._

Gary was making _that face_ again. The face he made when he was bored and trying to hide it. But he couldn't hide it from Misty. Especially when she had the 'best seat in the house' to observe her best friend.

They were on _another _double-date. Misty had already participated in dozens of them this year. She, Ash and Gary would go out to dinner two or three times per month, and Gary would always bring along his latest lady. Gary had yet to repeat a female friend, and so Misty didn't bother trying to bond with any of the pretty faces that joined them. The only constant was the location: in this booth at their favorite pub, The Dancing Dratini.

The Dancing Dratini was a fun, neighborhood pub that hosted nightly karaoke contests (she and Gary had won many-a-free-appetizer with their mostly-on-key duets). In fact the famous 'Pokerap' was being belted-out by a patron in the background now. Waiters and waitresses sported blue headpieces with white dratini wings; the walls showcased murals of dratinis on underwater adventures; heck, even the salt and pepper shakers were cute dratini heads! The food was mediocre, but the drinks were strong, flavorful and cheap. Hence the _'DD' _was their 'go to' for double-date night.

Misty was seated beside her long-time boyfriend, Ash Ketchum, and she was directly opposite Gary in the restaurant booth. Two feet of table top separated them, but Misty could kick Gary underneath (if deserved it, which he normally did). Gary's bubbly blond date—Kelly?—Kathy—? Krissy—_no— Christine, yes Christine, _well, she sat beside him and opposite Ash. Ash expressed to Christine how eager he was for their entrees to arrive, and that he felt slighted on the volume of nachos they'd received as an appetizer.

A few tangerine-strands had mutineered from Misty's ponyta-tail and so — with forced casualness — she twirled these with one hand, while the other raised her martini glass to her lips. Inconspicuously examining Gary Oak was a near impossible task, but Misty had nearly perfected the art. The young professor was looking down, pretending to read the label on his bottle of Cinnebar Ale. Gary was as handsome as ever, but he looked very tired. In the fifteen years that Misty had known Gary, _this_ was the first time dark circles shadowed his eyes and stubble his jawline. His skin tone was paler than normal. While Gary usually worked outdoors, digging up fossils under the sunlight, he now spent his daylight hours trolling fossils up underground. His brunette spikes of hair were always a tad wild, but tonight they looked downright feral. This wasn't a bad look by any means . . . Gary just looked . . . _edgier._

The redhead tossed back a large mouthful of her drink and cringed against the burn. She was concerned for her friend. She wished they weren't sharing a table with Ash and Christine so they could share a private conversation instead.

Misty knew that the past month had been hell for Gary. Losing Professor Frank like he did . . . Misty shuddered. The hurt and workload Gary inherited was obviously crushing him. These days he seemed to live at that archeological site, rarely emerging from those awful caves. He had ignored her and Ash's calls and texts for twenty-one damn days, in fact, _tonight _was the first time she'd even seen Gary since Professor Frank's funeral. Misty just wanted to remind Gary that she was his best friend, and that she was always here for him. She wanted to thank him for finally answering the phone today and agreeing to go out tonight (even though she had to threaten to 'wallop him with a mallet' to get him to agree!). Misty wanted to reprimand Gary for ignoring her — causing her to fret over him day and night—tell him that she missed him—she missed talking to him everyday— she even missed him teasing her and calling her _'Flares'— and _picking on Ash! She was desperate to know what was going on with him—to tell him he didn't have to mourn alone! She understood more than anyone what Professor Frank meant to Gary. The professor was his mentor— like a father figure — and Gary was trying to endure his loss alone. _Why?_ Misty needed to know why Gary (obviously) wasn't sleeping. Was it from being overworked? Was he having nightmares? Or should she blame whatever-slutty-ass-town-in-Kanto that he'd picked up Christine in? Was this bimbo occupying all of his time now— his bed—?!

Gary's sight flicked upward to meet her own. His eyes were Articuno-blue — freezing Misty in place with the effectiveness of the legendary bird himself. The darkness of his eyebrows and lashes only highlighted the icy hue of his irises, and somehow, the cold tones conjured warmth within Misty's cheeks. She and Gary had made eye-contact countless times over the years and yet . . . the emotion she saw pooling within him now was exotic to her . . . unnerving and —and_—_Gary raised an eyebrow and smirked, mouthing:_ "like my shirt?"_

Misty blinked, her focus ping-ponging to Gary's chest as he casually unzipped his hoodie. She laughed out loud. Her professor pal wrinkled his nose at her, and proceeded to preform a dramatic yawn. This yawn caused his chest muscles to budge forward. Gary was wearing (what Misty teasingly labeled) his 'fuck me shirt'. This was a very formfitting t-shirt which perfectly accentuated his pectorals, and biceps. _Hell,_ Misty could practically count his abs through the fabric. He might have neglected her, Ash and the sunshine, but he'd not forgone his bench press. To complete the ultimate 'fuck boy' look, the t-shirt was a near-perfect match to his eye color. Gary Oak was hotter than a magmar in a sauna, and he knew it. Of course Misty would never fan Gary's ego—or perturb Ash— by acknowledging so out loud.

Whenever Gary adorned his 'fuck me shirt', Misty knew he was 'pulling out all the stops' to seduce his date. And . . . Gary's 'sexy-efforts' were not in vain. Christine noticed Gary's yawn-flexing and her brown eyes bulged from their sockets just like her cleavage bulged from her top.

Ash was well-aware of the 'fuck me shirt' inside joke, and couldn't bypass an opportunity to dig at his friend. "You lazy bastard," Ash laughed, pointing at Gary's face. "Makin' time to lift weights, but can't be bothered to shave your face? You look homeless, bro."

"Well," Christine piped up, running an eager finger across Gary's jawline," the stubble-look is in, Ash, and it's very sexy. Maybe you should try it?"

Ash stroked his own chin, considering Christine's words. And Gary was next to verbally bat: "I don't think Ashy can grow a beard, haveta hit puberty first." A month apart and the two guys didn't miss a beat at verbally beating one another down.

Christine giggled and Ash scoffed: "Christine, if you find lazy men hot then you've hit the jackpot, good for you. This guy has been too lazy to even send a text for weeks."

"Lazy?" Gary volleyed back. "If Christine here finds 'lazy men hot', then Flares is gunna have a fight on her hands over you, Snorlax."

Misty rolled her eyes at Gary's statement for two reasons:

1\. Gary called her by his personal nickname for her, _'Flares'. _Gary said that Misty's red hair and short temper reminded him of a Flareon, and the nickname had stuck for several years. She had repeatedly asked him not to call her 'Flares' on their double-dates, as the pet-name tended to rouse absurd jealously from his lady friends.

2\. The fleeting (and equally absurd) excitement in Ash's eyes that Misty might fight another women for his love _over laziness_.

Misty leaned back in the booth and sipped her martini. When the guys started bantering . . . well, it could go on for a while. Christine clued in and raised her glass as well.

The professor continued punishing: "We don't go running for a few weeks and you gain a jigglypuff in bodyweight, Ketchum. Disgraceful."

"In my defense, you've blown me off the past few weeks—"

"—Yeah, work has been busy," Gary verbally hijacked, "but you can still exercise without me."

Ash shook his head with ardent negativity, his dark hair flapping like murkrow feathers. "Nah, while it's certainly _not fun_ running _with you_, it's worse solo. But I should get back into it, so whadaya say, wanna go for a run tomorrow? You could use the sun, vampire."

"Sure," Gary agreed at once and polished off his ale. "I may need some sun but you, Snorlax, are in desperate need of exercise. I'll bring Eevee, Arc and Umbreon, strap a leash on you and we can make it a dog run. Can you be ready by 7AM?"

Ash looked as though Gary had just tongue-kissed his mother: "7AM?! Hell no! I'm plannin' on being hungover tomorrow morning." Ash took a mighty swig from his beer to demonstrate his efforts. "How about 10AM?"

Gary's tone and expression were twinning with tedium. "8AM or nothing. I have a lot of work to do. You gym leaders might get Sundays off, but my research doesn't end."

Ash shrugged, begrudgingly accepting the 8AM run time. "Hey, where the heck is our food? It's been like twenty minutes since we ordered. I'm starving."

"You've got a jigglypuff worth of fat to live off, you're fine," Gary managed to insult Ash though a yawn.

It was only 8PM and Gary was looking increasingly exhausted. Misty caught Christine mirroring her own concern, though, their concerns rooted from very different places. Christine was probably worried that Gary would be too tired to bang her. Misty was worried for his well-being.

Professor Frank had perished right in front of Gary. And Gary had to carry the man out of a cave and drive his corpse to the nearest hospital —_ over three hours away!_ Gary's cellphone had no service in the mountains to call for help. The scenario was horrifying! The autopsy revealed that Professor Frank had suffered a massive heart attack and brain aneurysm in rapid succession. Even had he collapsed _in a_ hospital his fate would not have changed, and yet Misty knew that Gary harbored guilt for being unable to save his mentor's life.

The day Professor Frank perished his employer sent a message to Gary: he promised that Professor Frank's research fee would still be paid to his widow_ if _Gary would finish his work. Knowing that poor old Bonnie Frank was not left with much money, and knowing what this research meant to Professor Frank, well, Gary felt obligated to see the project through. And so that was what he committed nearly every waking hour to doing.

Normally Gary, Misty and Ash blew up their three-way chat — texting nonstop— everyday. Gary called them nightly to shoot the shit, and he always ate breakfast with them on Sunday mornings before the guys went on their weekly trail run. But all communication came to a halt when Gary undertook Professor Frank's research project as his own.

Misty often teased Gary that: the grandson of Samuel Oak was 'genetically predisposed to over-working himself'. But that joke didn't seem funny anymore. Her friend was overdoing it, even though he was trying very hard to appear 'okay'. Gary did not want to talk with her or Ash about his traumatizing experience with Professor Frank's death, and they knew him well enough not to push him. Gary was as stubborn as Ash was. She'd have better luck rolling a snorlax out of a roadblock than nudging Ash or Gary in any direction they weren't ready to head. Misty hoped that Gary would open up when he was ready . . . and . . . _omg . . ._

. . . speaking of 'opening up', it looked like Christine was ready to blossom right on the dinner table! The woman was batting her eyelashes, twirling her curls, and practically serving Gary her boobs as his entree. Although Misty had been trying not to pay attention, the blond had been rambling about her daily fitness regiment ever since the guys set up their morning 'running date'. Misty garnered that she was gunning for an invite. Well, Christine would also have better luck rolling a snorlax, because those trail runs were 'boys only'. Even Misty wasn't welcome to join them.

Misty frowned as she assessed the scene before her: Gary was clearly attracted to Christine. He wore his 'fuck me shirt'. Christine was beautiful, as Gary's dates always were. But— _by Mew—_Gary usually had more game and played it cool . . . why _—all of a sudden_— were his tired eyes now like a pair of alert blue leeches, sticking hungrily to her abundance of cleavage!? It wasn't like Gary to outright obviously ogle!

_Yuck._

Gary may have been into Christine's robust-bust, but there was no chemistry as far as her personality was concerned. Misty knew that he wasn't hearing a thing Christine was saying.

_Another one bites the dust,_ Misty snickered privately. She was not at all disappointed as she didn't want to have to go out on a double-date with Christine again. Not that Misty had liked _any_ of the other girls Gary dated either. Misty preferred it when she, Ash and Gary were a 'three-wheeler', so-to-speak. They had a lot more fun together as a trio —- much like she, Ash and Brock did back in the day. But Ash was relentless in his desire for them to become a 'four-wheeler'. Hence this evening's company: Ash had insisted a double-date was the best way to get Gary out having fun again. Gary mentioned that he'd recently met a girl at the gym, _and_ simply mentioning a girl's name was all it took to possess Ash with lovey-dovey glee. Ash always hoped that 'the next girl' would be 'the one to tame Gary' or some such absurdity — as though he were a wild pokemon secretly yearning for a ball. Gary and Misty would both humor Ash with these double-dates. But Misty knew the truth: with Gary's profession being as demanding as it was, he didn't have time to invest in a steady girlfriend. But, including Ash in his 'love life' kept Ash from worrying that he was a workaholic-womanizing-waste. Ash and Misty both knew that Gary slept with more women every year than there were weekends on the calendar, and (while Misty simply advised Gary to buy stock in the Kanto Condom Company) Ash always remained optimistic that there was a 'special someone' out there for Gary. Ash seemed to think that if he and Misty 'gelled' with a girl on a double-date then Gary just might invite her on a second date . . . which would then lead to a third . . . and before Gary knew it he'd be a cohabiting-ex-bachelor, just like Ash himself.

There were two occasions where Ash had begged Misty to set Gary up on blind-dates. As Gary clearly wasn't choosing 'lifers' for himself, Ash thought Misty could lend a helping hand. Misty agreed and chose women opposite the type that Gary usually asked out. First Misty set him up with a delightful older woman . . . _okay,_ so she was fifty-five years old. But she was career focused, passionate and very natural . . . _okay,_ so she had a large bushy unibrow and armpits like a tangela. Well, it didn't work out, so Misty went a different route. The second time she set Gary up with a girl his own age who was a successful chemist. Ash was excited, he hoped her science background would result in legit _chemistry!_ The girl even had an exotic foreign accent . . . _okay, so _it was the most irritating foreign accent in existence. Ash and Gary spent the entire dinner date cringing as Gary mouthed to Misty '_never again, Flares', never again'. Okay, _so, after that Misty wasn't allowed to play matchmaker anymore. _Oh well._

A few months back there _was _an instance where Gary introduced them to a girl that he actually claimed to . . . _like_. As in: he liked her enough to want to go on a second double-date. She was a professional seadra trainer, came from a nice Kanto family and had a lot in common with all three of them. Ash was about to do a backflip—_ but— _Misty could sniff out a gold-digger and warned Gary not to waste his time. Ash almost cried and Gary looked disappointed, but he trusted Misty's instincts and never called the girl again.

Because Ash and Misty had been joined-at-the-hip since childhood, Ash simply could not fathom how any person could stand to be single. Misty knew that Gary appreciated Ash's concern for his 'loneliness', but she also knew that Gary was a 'heartbreaker'. And she knew that he would not be able to endure being on the receiving end of that sensation. 'Fast women' suited his lifestyle better and they protected him from ever getting hurt . . . _that was what Gary wanted_.

Misty was . . . certain . . . of it.

Ash lay a hand upon Misty's shoulder, drawing her from her thoughts. He offered her a charming-toothy-smile. Misty couldn't help but mimic the expression — her boyfriend was so darn handsome. Ash had boyish-good-looks: brown eyes that warmed her like hot cocoa, a floppy mop of dark hair and (despite Gary's jabs) he was quite fit. Although Ash did not hit the gym as obsessively as Gary did, he had a naturally fast-metabolism. He somehow retained a tight physique while eating more junk food than his buddy Pikachu. Ash and Misty had been an 'official couple' since she was fifteen-years-old. Last year they had taken the big step as 'roommates'. Misty moved into to Ash's apartment above the Viridian City Gym, where he was the gym leader. Misty commuted to Cerulean City on Monday and Tuesday to help at her family gym, and her sisters took shifts the rest of the week. That freed Misty up to aid Ash with his many gym leader duties the rest of the week. Living _and _working together was fun . . . _usually . . . sometimes . . . sort of. _

Misty loved Ash with all of her heart, and though they argued frequently (as was custom since childhood) they always found a way to kiss and make up. Misty had never had another boyfriend— or even dated— anyone other than Ash. She was twenty-six now (a year older than Ash) and he had been her one and only _everything. _No other guy had ever even kissed her. Ash was all she had ever wanted her entire life and now, here they were, living the dream . . . _usually . . . sometimes . . . sort of._

Like any couple they were not immune to problems, but they were committed to one another and in this for long-haul. Misty expected that eventually Ash would propose marriage to her, and she was looking forward to what adventures lay ahead for them to experience together. They were content. They were comfortable. And, _okay, _maybe things with Ash had grown a bit predictable . . . and they sure could use some spice in the romance department . . . but, there was security and trust between them — something Gary's floozies could never share with him. Stubbornness aside, Ash was the total opposite of Gary. _Thank Mew for that . . ._

Gary lived in a townhouse a few blocks from them, but he'd rarely been home over the past month. According to Gary's grandfather, Professor Samual Oak, (who told Delia Ketchum, who told Ash, who told her): Gary was living in a camper. Apparently his new employer set him up to live in a camping trailer outside the cave he was working in. Misty didn't know any details beyond that fourth-handed information. A month ago Gary had irritated her when sharing every detail of his new favorite breakfast cereal, and now she didn't even know for sure where he slept! Why didn't he want her support? To confide in her on how he was feeling? What he was going through? Why was he pushing her away when he obviously needed a friend?

Misty sighed and forced herself to concentrate on the current table conversation. She didn't need to act like a darned dwebble in a shell.

Always game to make a new friend, Ash was delighted to be sitting across from Christine. He was interviewing her on that daily fitness routine of hers. Ash was instantly passionate about any topic. Misty had to smile as Ash nodded along while Christine explained why she ordered a salad for dinner and the importance of roughage for the body. Ash's ability to make instant friends with everybody in life was one of the many qualities she loved about him. She also noticed he was trying his damnedest not to look at Christine's cleavage. At least Ash was trying not to drool for her sake. It's not that Misty wasn't fit and didn't have boobs herself, it's just that she wasn't putting her feminine goods out on parade. Especially not here — this was no nightclub — they were at the local pub! Misty was nestled into her favorite yellow hoodie and a baggy pair of jeans. Ash was also clad in his most comfortable flannel shirt and jeans. They didn't need to 'dress to impress' anymore like Gary and Christine. What a relief, Misty thought, but felt herself frown.

At last the waitress arrived with drink refills and their entrees (just before Ash could succumb to starvation). The waitress was a pretty, young, curvy brunette. She must have been new as Misty hadn't seen her here before. The waitress had been eyeing Gary like an ice cream sundae all evening (much to Ash's entertainment and Christine's irritation).

"Your beer is on me," the waitress cooed, boldly tugging a wisp of Gary's hair.

"Thank you." Never too tired to flirt, Gary flashed his classic-cocky-Oak smile.

As Ash and Misty were use to the female attention Gary generated, they merely exchanged faux-gagging expressions. Christine however, was not. The blond huffed with blatant annoyance and actually stood to shoo the waitress away as though she were a pesky wild pokemon. Instead of sitting back where she was on the bench, Christine positioned herself so that one of her legs was draped across Gary's lap.

"What a hussy!" Christine blared, attempting to 'chuckle off' the awkward waitress moment.

Misty looked to her 'half-mounted-friend-Gary' and mouthed _'ironic?',_ to which he laughed — but then granted Christine his full attention. Christine nuzzled against his chin like she was trying to exfoliate her pours on his stubble!

"You smell so good, Gare-bear," the blond murmured, now sniffing his throat like an exotic flower bouquet.

"And I taste even better."

"EWW!" Ash and Misty groaned, almost like they'd rehearsed it.

"This is a double-date, ya know! We can hear you." Misty knew she sounded bitchy, but she did not run the annoyance in her bloodstream through a filter.

Christine only giggled, charmed by Gary's innuendo. "I don't think I'll need dessert tonight, I'll be getting my fill of hard Oak—"

"EWW!" Misty confiscated Christine's sentence with her own squeal. She was solo this time as Ash was now busy eating his cheeseburger.

Gary was oblivious to Misty's protest. Operating on 'seducer auto-pilot' he lifted a long finger and tipped Christine's chin toward his face. Their mouths were inches apart. Gary raised an eyebrow and proceeded to snap the air between them . . . _with his teeth!_ He was like a growlithe after a slab of meat!

"You're right," Gary's voice was low, Misty had never heard him sound so outright lusty! "Dessert _is _unnecessary because I'm going to devour you raw." Gary leaned forward, captured Christine's lower lip with his teeth and sucked it.

Christine moaned like a slowpoke in heat. Her hands were now in Gary's hair and she yanked him in for a full-blown tongue-kiss!

Misty's jaw dropped like her bottom teeth were composed of lead!_ By Zapdos! _Gary Oak was never one for public displays of affection — let alone public displays of indecency!

"Excuse me." Misty bolted upward, dramatically stifling a gag. "I'm going to the ladies room."

"OH! Wait! I'll come with!" Christine pried herself from her breathless make-out partner and stood to join her.

Gary was breathing as though he'd just wrestled a machamp! His eyes narrowed into slits—striking Misty like blue lasers—-as though he was blaming her for his blond bimbo's leave!

Misty grit her teeth and stomped raging-tauros-style toward the restroom. The redhead resisted the urge to inform Christine that it was called a 'ladies room' — there was no 'whore's room' here— and allowed the girl to tail her. At least if Christine were following Misty then she wasn't molesting Gary.

Misty beat Christine into the ladies room and began washing her hands. She didn't actually have to use the toilet— she was just agitated, and washing her hands seemed like a good stress-reliever. The nerve of that Gary Oak! Ignoring her and Ash — _his best friends_— for a month, and then carrying on so scandalously _right at the dinner table_! How dare he! How rude! She and Ash had been on dozens of double-dates with Gary and he'd never behaved so ill-behaved! Granted Gary was normally quite flirtatious with his dates, often his banter dipping into the mature-rating, but he always kept his hands to himself. To act like _that_ — like some sex-crazed-savage right in front of her and Ash?! And in a public pub! _By all of the legendaries! THE NERVE! And . . . _

Why did Misty feel like she'd just been sucker-punched? Her cheeks were burning— her blood pressure pounding behind her eardrums—if she blinked she might have even puked— or cried—or—! Why was Gary acting like this? Why didn't he just want to talk to her— his best friend? He'd rather suck face with some stranger than talk with her?

Christine's grinning facade popped up beside Misty in the mirror. Both girls were red-faced, though for very different reasons. Misty studied Christine: while they were about the same height, they could not have been more different. Christine was a classic blond-bombshell. The young woman must have been a model. She had a stunning poster-girl face and tanned skin (that contrasted perfectly with her white romper). The girl rocked an hourglass figure, and not a single golden hair was out of place. Even her red lipgloss remained flawless after mouth-wrestling with Gary. Misty considered herself: she had a fairer complexion and was makeupless, but could still pass as pretty. There were three faint freckles on each cheek and —when motivated— they were easy to conceal with makeup (but she hadn't bothered to do that in months). While Misty did have a fit body to match her 'Sensational Sisters', her oversized sweatshirt alluded to a lumpy shape. And her carrot-toned hair was haphazardly arranged in a ponyta-tail (though most of it had long disbanded the hair-tie, leaving her with a style that was certainly not trending anywhere).

"I'm glad we've got some girl-time!" Christine sing-sang, showing a bit too much of her gum-line.

"Oh?" Misty raised an eyebrow at Christine's reflection, watching as the blond dabbed on fresh lipgloss.

"Well, duh! I need to totally _SQUEEEE_ out loud to someone! OMG! I should livestream this! I'm on a date with Gary-Mother-Fuckin'-Oak! I'm so excited! OMG! I hear he's hung like a charizard! That he has the stamina of a rapidash stallion! That's he's strong like a machcha—"

Misty held up her soapy hands like an Officer Jenny stopping traffic. The gesture effectively silenced Christine. "I wouldn't know."

"Oh girl!" Christine turned to face Misty, not the mirror version, "well, I'll totally let you know tomorrow. Can you do me a favor, one girl to another, and help me expedite the conclusion of this little double-date? I need to get that hard Oak body back to my apartment! _Please, Flares_?" Christine made an exaggerated pouty face, she looked like a goldeen with her lips stuck on a lure. Misty ignored Christine's sarcastic use of her nickname. Per usual, Gary's date didn't like him having a pet-name for Misty.

"How long have you even known Gary? Do you even like him?" Misty asked quietly, forcing eye-contact with Christine.

Christine blinked uncomfortably against the potency of Misty's stare. "We met at the gym yesterday and this is our first time hanging out. And, c'mon, he's Gary Oak," she stated matter-of-factly, as though Misty had asked her if she liked breathing air.

"And?"  
"And . . . he's effin' hot."

"And?"

"And he's successful, wealthy, comes from a famous family. I mean, obvi, Gary Oak is the whole package. I'd have his babies."

"He's also funny. Did you know that? He's sincere, dependable, and a fiercely loyal friend. Gary is awesome with pokemon. He's compassionate. He's a great karaoke partner, and he's a kind and generous person. He works harder than anyone else I know, and he's smarter too. I bet you don't even know what his goals are, or his dreams, or anything else about him. All you're after is sex, money and social media likes."

Christine paused now, and tilted her head just-ever-so-slightly. There was a flash of accusation behind her eyes and then . . . a sugar-coated smile spread her red lips: "Well, _Flares_, I _do know_ that Gary is a great kisser." Christine paused just-long-enough for her message to taint Misty's cheeks. "It sounds like Gary is very special indeed. Good thing you're in a happy relationship with Ash or I might have to be worried, eh? But, come now, aren't we just two lucky girls, _Flares_? Each with a great guy on our arm. After I've had my way tonight, I think we'll be spending a lot more time together. I foresee many double-dates in our future, well, _that is_ if Gary ever wants to leave my bed again anyway. Most guys don't. They forgo their friends and family for my—"

Misty stopped her there: "You really don't know Gary at all". Christine wasn't the only one who could drench bitchy words in honey: "Yeah, Christine, you might enjoy the taste of him later, but trust me, my pal Gary is going to devour you raw, just like he promised. You're just the flavor of the day."

A frown threatened Christine's lipgloss, but she retained her confident composure: "I know he dates a lot, but I'm different. He's going to fall for me, _Flares_. Just accept it."

"If I had a dollar . . ." Misty allowed her sentence to linger and walked over to the hand-dryer. The sound effectively muffled anything else Christine wanted to add.

Gary had dated every type of women there was— some sophisticated, some emo, some ditzy, some dull, and all of them way too over-eager to suck his dick. Misty spit into the sink as she exited the ladies room. Of the multitude of girls Gary had subjected her to on these double-dates, she liked Christine the least. This blond was not only cocky, but she had a mean-streak to match. Nevertheless, a triumphant grin decorated Misty's face as she waltzed back to the booth. Misty did not know how Gary kissed, but she knew Gary. And Gary wouldn't even remember Christine's name by mid-week.

Back at the dinner table Ash and Gary were immersed in a loud debate.

"I need to see this cave!" Ash was practically wailing. Misty noted that he had already devoured his entire burger, fries and nearly cleaned her plate of fries too. Luckily he'd left her fish-fry alone or there would have been war!

"I'll bring you on Monday, Ash, okay? Calm down." Gary was making his 'I'm going to throat-punch-Ketchum face'.

"PLEASE! Can we _please_ just go tomorrow? If there's even a possibility for me to see a new pokémon species in that tomb—c'mon, Gary! I have to be the first to see it and catch it!"

Christine and Misty sat down, equally perplexed by this conversation. "What are you going on about, Ash?" Misty put a hand on his shoulder, trying to keep his butt from bouncing off the seat.

Gary eyed her dully: "He's having an Ashgasum."  
"Huh?" Christine questioned through a mouthful of lettuce.

The professor explained the phenomenon: "It's when Ash gets waaayyyy over-stimulated about something, though it usually involves catching pokemon. He loses his mind obsessing, and he will not shut-the-_eff-_up about it until he gets his way. Spoiled only-child shit that Misty and I have to put up with constantly."

Misty was instantly annoyed that Gary let Christine in on their 'Ashgasum' term. Christine didn't deserve to be in on any of their private jokes. But, that aside, Misty's interest was piqued. Gary was actually opening up about something work-related! Misty had to know more. "What tomb?" she inquired.

Gary elaborated: "Snorlax over here wants to see a tomb that was _literally just_ discovered in the Moltralous Cavern. I _just_ took a phone call from work while you ladies were using the toilet."

"I was _not _using the toilet," Christine interjected, bleaching at the mere idea of Gary picturing her using a toilet. "I was just reapplying my lipgloss to look gorgeous for you."

Misty's caught Gary's eye and her expression was a flashing neon sign of: **'SERIOUSLY!? WHY THIS GIRL?!'**

Gary considered Misty for a nano-second and turned away, instantly cutting the power to her flashing sign. He wrapped his arm around Christine's shoulder and murmured something inaudible into her ear. Whatever he said, it caused Christine to fondle his pectorals and abs.

Misty huffed and pushed her entire plate over to Ash. "Eat it. I'm sick to my stomach."

Ash scrutinized Misty for a moment— regarded the canoodling Gary and Christine— and then scrutinized Misty again. "You are impossible. " Ash actually said those three words TO Misty. _No, _he didn't even _say _them, he _hissed _them like ekans!

What?!

Her!?

Impossible?!

Had everyone lost their minds?!

"AHEM! Your _work,_ Gary?" Misty slapped the tabletop so hard that the fish-fry on her plate did a summersault. "I haven't seen you in a month. I want to hear about your work, too. Fill me in! What's going on?"

Gary panted like he'd been wrestling wild pokemon again. _By Mew,_ Christine must have had some talent with her little fondle-fingers. However, Gary did react to Misty's border-line temper tantrum. He exhaled loudly and placed his hands on the tabletop (probably to keep them off Christine).

"_Flares_," Gary used a stern tone, usually reserved for ordering underlings around his digging sites. "As you know I've been hired by a private company to complete Oliver's work. I am in the midst of translating hundreds of ancient Moltralous hieroglyphics. Signs have been hinting at a tomb hidden within the cave system. And this tomb may contain a 'cave guardian'. At least that's what the ancient Moltralous believed it to be. But I think this 'cave guardian' is really an ancient species of pokemon. Something yet undiscovered, and possibly legendary —"

"I NEED TO SEE IT!" Ash cried again through a mouthful of who-knows-wh—_ohhh, _Misty noticed that the fish-fry had vanished from her plate.

"I'll take you in on Monday. But, trust me, you won't like it. The walls are covered in murder-art, just drawings of Moltralous strangling the shit out of one another."

"It sounds so creepy," Misty breathed, "and not at all typical of the Moltralous either." Misty had never seen 'murder-art' before (and wasn't sure she wanted to), but she _had_ seen numerous examples of Moltralous drawings and hieroglyphics over the years. Enough so that, perhaps, she could help Gary with his workload? He did say that he had a mountain of hieroglyphics to translate. When Gary first met Professor Frank he'd wanted to impress him by learning the common hieroglyphics used by the Moltralous. Misty had helped Gary make hundreds of flashcards, and even hand-stenciled the symbols with him. Months-worth of their Sunday breakfasts were spent quizzing him until Gary was confident enough to showcase his new skillset before Professor Frank. Misty had inadvertently picked up an understanding of Moltralous herself from the experience. Certainly not of use for a gym leader, but maybe she could help out her friend now?

"Hey, Gary, you know I'd be happy to tag along with you guys on Monday. I still remember a good bit of Moltralous mysel—"

Gary's retinas practically launched shards of ice at her head: "That won't be necessary, Misty."

_Ouch, _back to her real name.

"Anyway," Gary continued curtly, "we hired a team of digletts to tunnel through to the tomb, but they were freaked out by something and abandoned the job yesterday. And so a team of human miners came in today and finished the tunnel. My boss wants me to enter the tomb first thing Monday morning to being excavating. They aren't yet sure the tunnel is safe and need to take precautions first, such as lighting and ceiling stabilizers. _Once I know it's safe_, Ash, I can bring you down. So just calm down about it until then."

Ash was anything but calm. "Could the legendary pokemon still be alive in there? Do you think it's your OC1? Or what else could it be? And whose tomb is it? And—"

Gary pressed a finger to each of his temples, as though the act would somehow quell his exasperation: "I don't know yet, Ash! I just got the phone call five minutes ago! You know this! You were sitting right here when I took the call."

"But—"

"No. Stop it, Ash!" Gary stood, pulling Christine up with him. He reached into his wallet, threw down a wad of cash and said: "Let's go."

"Gladly, baby. Dessert time. Rawr!" Christine raked her phony-fingernails through Gary's hair and Misty wanted to rake her chewed-fingernails across Christine's face. "I can't wait to get you all alone."

The ice within Gary's sight melted over Christine's eager body. Without looking away from his date, Gary announced: "I'll see you at 8AM, Snorlax." And then he and Christine were out the door. Forget a leftovers' bag, Gary was clutching a fist-full of Christine's ass as his takeaway.

"Well, looks like Oak showed off again and paid for dinner," Ash's voice drew Misty's attention. Her boyfriend was glaring at her like she'd stolen his starter pokemon.

"What?" Misty did not conceal the defense in her tone.

Ash tussled his own dark locks, something he only did when he was properly perturbed. "Can't you just play nice for once? Gary is obviously into Christine, so can't you just be happy for him? He's had a terrible month, he deserves to have some fun!"

"I don't know what you mean." Misty replied honestly.

"Oh, c'mon," Ash's eyes ignited like bronze searchlights— zeroing in on Misty's own. "You don't approve of anyone he dates."

"That's because he always dates the same girl!" Misty defended, suddenly realizing that she was squeezing the ever-living-pepper out of the helpless dratini shaker. She quickly set it back beside its salt twin. "She might look different, but she's aways the same: out to use him! _I'm sorry_ if I don't want to see our best friend get his heart broken."

Ash blew annoyed-air through his lips: "I think Professor Gary Oak is smart enough to avoid that. I mean, he's miraculously avoided STDs and babies thus far. If he can protect his dick from hundreds of women, I think his heart will be just fine. Trust me, he's not poking them with that organ. You're _too picky, _Mist. And you're selfish. You know how important it is to Gary that you approve of, _and get along with,_ his 'future girlfriend'. Why can't you just try? In any other setting you get along well with everyone. I don't understand why Gary's dates always become public enemy number one?"

Misty shred her napkin into bits. "Don't you think he was acting a little strangely? Making-out at the dinner table?"

"Don't answer my question with a question. I hate that!" Ash reached forward and rescued the next napkin from Misty's clutches. "Just please cut Gary some slack, Mist. He's had a pretty shitty month. I think we can excuse him for wanting to get drunk and get ass."

"He wasn't even drunk! He was just horny! It was rude!"

"No, _you were rude_!"

Misty paled, realizing that the couple in the next booth was watching them. She and Ash had to get out of there before someone pulled out their cellphone. As two gym leaders they were both well-known across Kanto and they had professional reputations to protect.

"I'm not having this conversation here." Misty seethed under her breath, snatched her purse and headed toward the exit.

Luckily the pub was only a block from their apartment. The autumn weather was mild and they had opted to walk to dinner.

Walking burned off anger.

Misty was glad to be walking.

And that was the only thing that she was glad about.

If they'd had to share a car ride Ash would not have survived the trip. At least outdoors he could _try to outrun _her if he shoved her temper over-the-edge.

The cool evening air was a relief upon Misty's heated face. She power-walked through it like she was matching strides with a dragonite. At this pace she'd be home in a few minutes! Misty just wanted to crawl into bed with her vaporeon and pull the blankets over her face.

Though he had to jog to gain headway, Ash did catch up with her. He reached for her hand and Misty grunted, folding her arms across her chest.

"Mist, calm down, okay?" Ash was straining to sound reasonable.

She kept her focus forward on the sidewalk: "_Calm down_? You've just accused me of sabotaging Gary's chances at happiness."

" . . . Well are you?"

Misty halted in her tracks and spun on her heels to face Ash. She scoured his expression for_ any _evidence that he had simply misspoken. But Ash looked . . . genuinely curious.

"Ash Ketchum, how could you ask me that?! Gary is our dearest friend!"

"It just seems like . . ." Ash's sentence was lost to the cool evening air.

Misty stood on her sneaker-tippy-toes— making her best effort stare Ash square in the eyes. Though she'd had the hight advantage during their childhood, he'd managed to surpass her into adulthood. Where Misty stood a respectable 5 foot 3 inches, Ash was easily almost six feet. But his tallness never deterred Misty from standing her ground during their arguments. Especially when she knew she was right!

Ash looked down at her, raised his brow and said: "Well, good for Gary. At least one of us is getting laid tonight." Though his tone held jest, it was piggybacking bite.

"Yeah," Misty delivered her next line ala Christine: sugar-sweet and bitchy: "you and Pikachu can enjoy sleeping on the couch tonight."

"S'ok," Ash's chuckle was drenched in sarcasm, "I'm getting use to it." With that Ash brushed past Misty on the sidewalk.

The remainder of the walk was silent.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you sooo much to everyone who has taken the time to read and leave a review thus far. It means so much to know that my story is being enjoyed! I'm looking forward to reading your thoughts on this chapter next. Please do fuel my Muse and leave a review! Oh, and, I have commissioned some additional pro story art by the amazing wooserr. These pieces are specific to this story. No details . . . yet! ;) I'll let everyone know when the arts are finished. I daresay you'll loooove them! Thank you and best wishes, Maia's Pen


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Icy eyes to match his icy heart. _

The bitter thought was unwelcome, but invited itself into Misty's mind nonetheless. She could not deny it. After all, Gary's conduct at dinner last night was appalling. He had behaved as her closest friend and a total stranger within the span of one meal. But it wasn't his '_hornier-than-thou' _act which thieved Misty of sleep . . . rather, something as simple as a _look_. A _look_ so fleeting Misty nearly missed it. But, while Gary Oak was the world's foremost expert on deciphering ancient Moltralous, Misty Waterflower held the title on deciphering him. Gary's eyes were like blue ghosts, haunting Misty as she lay in her bed. She was still staring directly into that glacial-gaze . . . _well . . . _not really. Admittedly, the redhead had an overactive imagination. The shade of her pillowcase was nearly identical to Gary's eye color. Misty had never noticed the resemblance until now. Probably because she had never spent so much time holding her pillow over her face like a jumbo sleep-mask. A jumbo-_faulty_-sleep-mask because she was certainly not sleeping. She was preoccupied with recreating _that look_ in her mind's eye.

As was common among close friends, Misty and Gary could commune through glances alone. Inside jokes, disapproval, approval, gratefulness, bright ideas, affection, irritation and countless other sentiments transpired with effortless silence. So why — for that nano-second—was Gary's stare unfamiliar? This _look_ appeared right before Gary flaunted his 'fuck me' shirt so they could enjoy a laugh. They had made eye-contact. A _look_ that slapped her psyche. A glint of regret. A flash of desperation. Then an overflow of voraciousness, a primal urge to . . .

_ To what?_

The kaleidoscope of emotions caused Misty's face to overheat. The physiological reaction hijacked her then, and it continued to hold her hostage.

A frown joined her eyes in pressing against the pillowcase. Gary was over-worked, under-slept and devastated by Oliver Frank's death; but what the hell was going on in his head? No one, not even Ash, had ever made her feel vulnerable through a _look _alone. How did he do that? And why?

Misty shut her eyes and granted her retinas a reprieve. She did not know what time it was. It had been brooding-blue-o'clock as long as she'd been laying here. Her alarm hadn't gone off. That meant it wasn't 7:30AM yet. It could be 2AM or it could be 7:29AM. Misty was laying in limbo. She did not dare to come out from under the covers and peek at the time. If she sat up then Vaporeon would _be up_. Anytime was breakfast time as far as Vaporeon was concerned. Breakfast time meant a water dog running circles around the bedroom! Then there would be no more laying in bed playing _'look detective'._

Vaporeon's weight pressed against Misty's feet like a hot water bottle. Her pokémon was nestled at the end of the bed and was snoring softly. What Misty could not feel was Ash's weight in the bed beside her. What she could not hear was Ash's snoring.

Ash had slept on the couch last night. That was where he slept whenever they argued. Ash was sleeping on the couch a lot lately. They had only been cohabiting for a year, and yet Misty would bet that half of those nights were spent apart. Like any couple they were dealing with several relationship-induced problems, but one had begun to loom above. This problem came to the forefront whenever they shared a bed. Which was why they rarely did.

~*BEEP-BEEP-BEEP*~

Human and pokémon jumped as the alarm buzzed to life. It was 7:30AM. Gary would arrive in thirty-ish minutes to drag Ash out for their trail run. As anticipated: Vaporeon began barking and tugging on Misty's comforter.

"Just a moment, my yappy little Vappy," Misty laughed through a yawn. Her pillow-roasted face was savoring the cool bedroom air.

As Misty's eyes adjusted to the light, she took a moment to admire her bedroom decor. Before she had moved into this apartment Ash had a snorlax-theme going; this included curtains, pillows and a comforter all showcasing the sleepiest pokémon of all. Misty redecorated the day she moved in. They now woke up to an oceanic theme. The throw pillows were shaped like seashells, the curtains resembled rolling waves and the comforter was patterned with little horsea silhouettes. The color-scheme matched Vaporeon.

A damp muzzle found Misty's hand. She caressed her pokémon with gaze and fingers. Misty caught the fully evolved Vaporeon two years ago and the pair had been inseparable since. Vaporeon was slightly smaller than average, but made up for that with massive energy. The pup had a power-packed Hydro-Pump to put a blastoise to shame! Misty's fingertips delighted in the fuzzy-scaled texture of Vaporeon's nose. Scratching these scales somehow scratched the stressors from her mind. Misty continued to rub with one hand while the other sought out her cellphone.

A 'new message' notification lit her screen. It was from Christine — Gary's date from last night. The blond started following her Pokegram account.

_'BY ZAPDOS! GIRRRL!'_ Misty could practically _hear _Christine's over-zealous voice through the text. '_The rumors are TRUE! Gary turned me inside out like sexual origami last night! He's a sex god! DAAAAMMNNN! HIS BODY! Those abs! Those arms! Dat ass! And he knows how to use that hot bod, let me tell you!' _

There was an entire line of alternating winky face and eggplant emojis then: _'I know that you and I got off on the wrong foot yesterday. I'm sorry for being bitchy in the bathroom, but I'm hoping we can become friends! To the point: I need your help, Misty! Gary was gone when I woke up this morning. But then I remembered that he was going to your place to run with Ash. Can you please put in a good word for me?' _

Misty didn't even bother to read the rest of the message. She pressed the 'BLOCK CONTACT' icon instead. Misty had warned Christine about Gary. But Christine was a cocky bitch! The blond boasted about how her sexual talents would keep Gary _coming _back for more. And now she had the nerve to ask Misty to play matchmaker?! Unbelievable. As tempting as it was to reply 'told ya so', Misty was as over Christine as Gary was.

Vaporeon tilted her head at Misty. Ebony orbs blinked with curiosity as to her mother's irritation. The fin atop Vaporeon's head glittered like a crown of sapphires in the sunlight . . . the hue again reminding her of his eyes . . .

"I tried to warn her about him," Misty explained, and Vaporeon only cocked her head more dramatically. "I'm glad you're not an espeon right now. There are some things that pokémon don't need to know."

The redhead rolled out of bed, grabbed her toothbrush and hopped into the shower. Hot water was better than hot coffee at waking her up. The shower was as brief as a shot of espresso: brush teeth, soap up, wash hair, done. As an avid swimmer Misty had invested in laser-hair removal years ago. The investment saved her a great deal of time not having to shave her armpits, legs and nether-regions on the regular. The only hair she had to contend with was the ginger-tangle upon her head. The braid Misty created yesterday survived the shower, so she decided to let it continue its braid-life. She used the strands as a makeshift hair-tie and arranged her locks into a knot.

A pair of gray leggings and a purple poliwag t-shirt won the 'easiest outfit contest'. Today was a 'lazy-day' for her. While the guys were out running, she was going to relax on the couch, get caught up on emails and mindless reality TV.

An approving eye-brow raise came from the redhead in the mirror. Misty had to admit: she looked cute. At least cute enough that Ash would be immediately apologetic for his out-of-line rudeness last night. Then they could (again) push their problems under the rug and get through another week. Maybe Gary would apologize for his gross table-make-out session with Christine?_ Nah,_ the only way to get an apology out of Gary would be to threaten his manhood with a mallet. Misty certainly wasn't opposed that. If anything, Gary's manhood could use some time on the bench after what Christine had written about it! _UGH!_

Misty and Vaporeon headed to the kitchen. She let her water dog loose into the backyard to potty and stretch. With Vaporeon busy outside Misty prepared the pokémon's breakfast. She mixed together a second bowl for Pikachu.

"Ash?" Misty called into the living room. "Pikachu?"

There was no reply.

The two of them must have stayed up stupidly-late binge-watching pokémon battles.

"Ash?" Misty peered into the living-room.

The couch was empty. It didn't even look slept on. The throw pillows were as neatly arranged as they'd been yesterday.

"Where are you guys?"

Their apartment above the Viridian City Gym was small — one bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchen, and a living-room. That was it. Misty had been in all four rooms. Ash and Pikachu were not inside. Misty surveyed the hallway by the front door: Ash's backpack was absent from its usual hook. Next she rushed downstairs into the gym: all of the lights were out and Ash was not in his office. Finally, Misty checked the garage: Ash's car was missing. She pulled out her cellphone and rang him. The call went directly to voicemail.

Misty sent a text: '_Where are you?'_

No reply.

Anxiety tapped on Misty's shoulder, but she shunned the sensation and walked to the backdoor. Vaporeon was eager to come inside and eat breakfast. So Misty let her dog inside and fed her breakfast . . . and then . . .

Anxiety tapped on Misty's shoulder once more. More insistently. Her bare-feet began tapping the floor. Then pacing the floor.

Did Ash go to the Moltralous Cavern?

Last night he had been obsessed with the idea of exploring the cave system. He wasn't interested in waiting for Gary to take him on Monday. Two days was an eternity for 'Rash Ash'. Gary had said it _wasn't safe_ for civilian exploration yet, but Ash was so damn impulsive and reckless with his own safety. Had he taken off with Pikachu and headed to that cave? Ash was so pissed off at her last night, and taking off on an 'adventure' was just the sort of foolish thing he would do to blow off steam! He wanted to know if there was an undiscovered pokémon down there. He wanted to be the first to see it. He wanted to be the first to catch it. Be dammed that this was Professor Frank's life's work! Be dammed that the professor had entrusted decades of study to Gary! When Ash Ketchum set his mind on something then '_Articuno Help'_ whoever got in his way! Even himself.

Vaporeon noticed Misty's anxiety and abandoned her meal. Misty knelt and hugged her. "I need to call Gary," Misty announced into her ear. "Ash isn't answering his phone, Vaporeon. He and Pikachu could be in trouble. I think Ash took off to explore a place that he shouldn't have. But Gary will be able to find out for sure. It's a place where Gary works and he's been living there too." Vaporeon cooed in understanding, snuggling against Misty's chin.

The front door swung open. Human and pokémon jumped for the second time that morning. Misty released Vaporeon and held her breath.

Was Ash home?

No.

Gary Oak stood in the doorframe. He held Misty's spare apartment key in one hand, and a 'to-go' box from a nearby breakfast joint in the other. The young professor looked anything but professorly. Rather Gary resembled a men's fitness model. He wore a hoodie the hue of a wild oddish; with sneakers to match the pokémon's leafy top. A pair of black jogger-pants completed his trail running ensemble. The joggers were stylish and formfitting. Snug enough that Misty quickly redirected her sight upon his face. Last night's stubble had been shaved. In contrast his spikes of hair were wilder than usual. Misty had to squelch the inkling that Christine's fingers were to blame. Gary offered his best 'good-morning-grin'. The smile reached his eyes and Misty looked away. That blue-abyss had caused her enough upset for today.

"Morning, Flares! Hi Vaporeon!" Gary set down the breakfast box and lifted a tail-wagging-water-dog into his arms. Vaporeon eagerly licked his face. "I brought breakfast wraps so you—" Gary's sentence vaporized as he observed Misty's obvious distress. "Flares?" He set Vaporeon down and his fingers found her chin, gently raising her attention to him.

Gathering her resolve, Misty forged eye-contact. The familiar gaze of her best friend granted instant comfort. There was no trace of that strange _look _from last night.

"It's Ash." Misty ended Gary's suspense. "We had a fight last night and he was upset. I thought he'd slept on the couch, but he never did. He's gone. I think he went to the cave."

Gary's jaw tightened, his fingers falling from her own. "Typical Ash." He spat the words like vinegar. "That selfish bastard. He just couldn't wait for me." Gary pulled out his cellphone, clearly calling Ash.

"I already tried." Misty informed.

Gary nodded, gritting his teeth. "Voicemail," he huffed, and then proceeded to dial someone else. "I'm calling the site manager," he explained, and then made a face to relay that no one was answering. "Miss Tekcor, it's Oak. Please call me back when you get this message. If I don't answer, I don't have service, but I'm on my way to the site. It'll take me about six hours from Viridian, but please meet me there if you can. Thanks."

With his phone back in his pocket, Gary's focus returned to Misty. "Well, no reply from Stupid or the site manager. Though I'm not surprised. If Ash or Miss Tekcor are up there, there's no cellphone service. The staff and I communicate with walkies on site. I just hope he didn't go into that cave. He has no damn idea _what's down there_. He has no idea how dangerous it is."

"Should we call Officer Jenn-ny?" Emotion ambushed Misty's eyes, breaking her last word. But strong arms were around her before her cheeks were wet. She tensed for a moment— unprepared for the physical contact— but granted herself the console of melting against her best friend.

Like his family's namesake tree, Gary's frame was solid and tall. At six-foot-three he had height on Ash. Misty strained upward on her toes; her cheek seeking refuge upon his chest, her ear contented by his heartbeat. Even her nose indulged in Gary. He smelled good. Better than good. Misty inhaled his sweatshirt: notes of masculine aftershave; a hint of his favorite coffee; even undertones of his darling Eevee's fur— and _something else_, some-endorphin-releasing-enticing-thing that was uniquely Gary Oak. Small fingers encircled his waist. Her hands were happy to lose themselves in the familiar fabric. Gary's sweatshirts had dried many of her tears over the years. Misty wished she could keep his sweatshirt in her possession— much like a child draws comfort from a pokedoll— but she was certain Ash would find the attachment creepy. Heck, so would Gary, and it probably was. Even more than the sweatshirt, Misty wished that she could keep her friend at arm's-reach. She never wanted to go so long without his presence in her life again. The past month had felt like ages. Like had someone removed a limb from her body, only to reattach it now. Her best friend's arms conveyed that: Ash would be okay. She and Ash would be okay. The three of them would continue on as great friends. Everything would go back to the way it was before Oliver Frank died.

It was subtle at first, but Gary's heartbeat changed. Misty's hearing was keen. She was specifically tuned-in to the channel of this chest. And this chest rose like an unsteady tide and then crashed. Repeatedly. Increasingly. As though he were struggling to swim against these same rocky waves. Large hands fell from Misty's shoulder blades — surrendering the swim — and descended hot and slow like the drip of a dying candle. Misty's thin t-shirt did nothing to numb the sensation. The brush of finger tips was oh-so tentative along her spine. A secret reflex yielded an involuntary tremble. Fingers fluttered lower . . . and lower . . . landing on exposed skin. The small of her back. Just where her t-shirt ended and leggings began. His heart was fighting for freedom from this chest cavity. It pounded savagely. A drum of desperation. Unwilling to concede to the tide as his hands had. His heart had grit left.

Gary gasped and released her. He staggered backward, wiping his hands together as though he'd been hugging a grimer.

Confusion clobbered Misty harder than a grimer ever could. Gary faced the door. His back to Misty. _What had just happened? _His heart and breathing were going wild. So Gary accidentally touched her skin. But, that was no big deal. _Obviously._ That couldn't have possibly upset him. _No way. _Misty had missed something. This reaction made as much sense as that _look _from last night did. The only thing apparent to her was that: her best friend was hurting inside. She saw that within his eyes and heard it within his heart.

"Gary, is there something you want to talk about? I'm sorry if I upset you somehow." Misty's fingers sought his arm and he flinched away.

"No, never, Flares." Gary hesitated. "I've been a shitty friend to you lately. I'm the sorry one." His voice was so gentle and genuine that it nearly brought tears to her eyes again. "I'm just worried about Ash, too. I have a lot in my head, you know? I'll never forgive myself if something happens to that idiot." Misty knew his words were true. He _was_ concerned about Ash. He was also concerned for her. Gary hated to see her cry. But there was more. His heart had tried to pound the truth into her ear. But his voice wasn't ready. Gary would open up to her eventually. Misty needed to be patient and supportive. Not pushy.

"You _have _been a shitty friend," Misty delivered the line with jest, "but I understand why. Give yourself a break, Gary. You know I love you, buddy, and I've been really worried about you. As Ash reminded me last night: you've been through hell. And Ash behaving like an impulsive-jerk isn't my fault or yours. He's a big boy and he makes his own shitty choices. I just wish he didn't drag Pikachu's safety into all this. So, speaking of, _should we_ call Officer Jenny? She can help us give Ash a beat down when we find him!"

Gary had finally tired of staring at the door. He glanced over his shoulder, offering Misty an apologetic smile. "No. If Ash is in the cave then I'm the only one who'll be able to find him. Since he can't read ancient Moltralous, he's likely to get lost down there quickly. But if he's not down there, then we'll call Officer Jenny, okay?" His voice offered reassurance and Misty gladly accepted. Gary retrieved the breakfast box from the floor and gestured toward the door. "I'm assuming you wanna join the Ash Hunt?"

"Of course. Do we need pokémon?"

"I have my dogs in the jeep. Since Ash and I were _supposed_ to have a 'dog run', the dogs are all I brought. But there's a PC in my camper at the site, so we can withdraw more pokémon if we need them there."

Misty nodded. "I'll just bring Vaporeon for now." The water dog's pokeball was in a basket by the door. Misty picked it up. Vaporeon had been lying down like a Canine Manner's Champion this whole time, not making a peep. "You're such a good girl," Misty praised her, eliciting a tail wag as she recalled her to the ball.

"I suggest getting your backpack, boots and a jacket, Flares. If we end up in the cave this could be a long day or even an overnight."

"Is it horrible that I'm excited to see real Moltralous hieroglyphics too? Not just the copies from those flashcards we made back-in-the-day." Guilt pinched Misty for even asking the question.

Her professor pal smirked. "Nah, you're a nerd after my own heart. Grab your stuff. I'll be outside."

Misty channeled her 'inner rapidash' and raced to her bedroom. Every seasoned pokémon trainer always had a traveling pack on the ready: toothbrush, granola bars, water bottle, flash light, matches, cash, clean underwear and other simple essentials.

Back downstairs Misty pulled on her hiking boots and jacket. The jacket was psyduck-yellow. Her favorite color. The zipper was lined with reflective trim — probably a good feature for a dark cave.

The adventurous-part of Misty couldn't deny the adrenaline blotting her bloodstream. Gary had told her so much about the ancient Moltralous over the years. The two of them had theorized as to what his OC1 pokémon might look like; what it might sound like; and—for a fleeting moment— she understood why Ash had ventured off to investigate. Misty loved and hated Ash's bold spirit, just as she loved and hated her own. Insatiable curiosity was a curse they both suffered from. The difference was: Misty had a sense of self-preservation.

As specified, Gary was waiting for her outside. He leaned against his jeep while typing on his phone. Misty guessed he was 'text bitching-out' Ash. She considered his vehicle: the jeep was as black and shiny as an umbreon's eye. Misty curbed herself from teasing Gary about his 'too-perfect-snooty-jeep'. Since childhood, he'd had rides that looked fresh off a showroom floor. Gary must have exited Christine's bed early to have had time to shave his face _and_ wash his jeep.

Eeeve's gleeful face appeared in the windshield. She was perched on the dashboard like an adorable plushy doll. Her fur was the shade of a brown-apricorn and always smelled of Misty's best friend. Two pokeballs were stored on the dashboard beside Eevee, probably containing Gary's Arcanine and Umbreon.

Ever the gentleman (at least with Misty) Gary opened the passenger's-side door. She thanked him and sat down. Eevee cooed with delight and leapt upon Misty's lap. Their cuddle-session was long overdue! Gary's Eevee was such a wonderful pokémon! She was well-socialized and loved everyone she met. Just as Vaporeon and Gary had clearly missed one another, Misty and Eevee had felt the same sting. Misty had gotten use to seeing Eevee nearly every Sunday morning when Gary came over for breakfast (and to exercise Ash).

Her professor pal claimed the driver's-seat and the jeep headed toward the highway. Soon they would leave Viridian City behind for the mountains.

The jeep smelled as good as it looked: clean and with a hint of Gary's aftershave. The seat enfolded Misty like a hug. Though the fabric smelled like her friend, the hug quality was subpar compared to the one he'd just given her. Wrapped within those big arms, her cheek against his chest, breathing him . . . Misty rolled down the window to take a hit of cold autumn air. Her face felt . . .hot.

Speaking of smells: Eevee's nose twitched and she dive-bombed into the backseat. The dog tore into the box of breakfast wraps! Misty reached back and rescued a pair of wraps for herself and Gary.

"Is this really a six hour drive?" Misty dared, glancing at her chauffeur.

"Yep," Gary delivered dead-pan, sight glued to the road. "I may need to stop for another coffee soon."

Misty noticed that there was already a travel mug in his console's cup holder. "Up late?" Her tone was as bitter as the caffeinated brew. Misty caught a flash of blue and Gary's eyes were quickly back on the road.

"Yeah." Gary's tone inferred that his lack of sleep should be obvious.

The breakfast wrap shielded Misty's flushing cheeks. She wished her hot face could warm the cooling meal. Misty felt guilty for enjoying a meal while Ash was missing, but she was also damn hungry! It would be tough to search for Ash (and then ream him out) on an empty stomach.

Even cool the wrap was delicious: eggs, spicy cheese and peppers— just the way she liked it. Her BFF knew her tastebuds well.

Gary helped himself to the remaining wrap. They ate in silence, but, when Misty swallowed her final bite she upchucked words: "Your behavior at dinner last night was pretty gross, Gary." The inferno in his side-eye could have melted an onix.

_ Well, shit, _Misty cursed herself, _#FAIL. So much for being PATIENT and SUPPORTIVE!_ She'd been harboring her frustration over his pervy-dinner-act all night and it just . . . came out! The floodgates opened on their own! Misty could not recall her words like a pokémon to a ball. It was best to just 'go with the flow' and explain herself.

"I was so excited to finally see you, but I didn't need to witness you impregnating a woman at the dinner table! I forgive you for ghosting me worse than a haunter for a month, but that behavior?! Making-out at the table! Grabbing her ass, _ugh! _It was rude and really over-the-top, even for you. Did you actually like Christine or something?! Is that why you acted like that? You aren't going to ask her out again, right? Because if so, you can count me outta that date."

"No." Gary answered curtly, eyes never leaving the road.

"Well, why?"

"You didn't like her," Gary stated matter-of-factly, "and I'm not gunna waste my time on someone my best friend doesn't like."

"You didn't like Christine either."

"If you already knew that, then why'd you ask me if I liked her? Why are we even talking about her?"

Misty ignored his questions of her questions and continued: "Christine sent me a message this morning. She said you were a sex god and stuff. _EW!_ She was totally objectifying your body. So rude and nasty! Zero class!"

"A sex god, huh?" Rays of egoistical sunshine lit Gary's face.

Misty _really_ wished she could recall the 'sex god' term! She chewed the next words like coffee grinds: "Christine was clearly drunk last night, Gary. So her 'review of your sexual performance' was probably grossly exaggerated by her intoxicated brain. Don't let it go to your head."  
"Too late." White teeth were flaunted.

Misty wished she had sunglasses. That ray of ego was rapidly evolving into a cocky supernova. "Well," she dramatically cleared her throat, "in any event, neither of us liked Christine so this conversation is stupid."

Gary shrugged casually, not at all surprised by her attitude. "You brought her up, Flares."

He had a point. But Misty did not acknowledge that. She was still miffed that Gary had yet to apologize for behaving offensively. He had apologized for being a 'shitty friend' — his words — but was he not sorry for being a 'dinner perv'? _REALLY?! _Misty fiddled with her seatbelt. "I don't wanna be pissy with you, Gary. I'm just really frustrated that you won't apologize and I'm really upset about Ash. To be honest, this conversation about you and Christine feels like deja vu, because this . . ." Misty considered her words carefully: ". . . this is what Ash and I were fighting about last night."

Gary's stone-facade cracked under the weight of surprise: "You were fighting about _me_?"

"While _you, _Professor Oak, were clearly the rude one at dinner, Ash had the gall to accuse _me _of being rude and," Misty's blood pressure spiked at the memory, "get this, Ash accused me of trying to _sabotage your happiness_ with potential girlfriends!"

_Cue the laughter,_ Misty thought . . . and . . . waited . . . and . . .

. . . nothing.

Gary did not laugh.

Why were the two of them not swapping jokes about Ash's foolishness? Gary's expression could not have been further from pleased. His cocksure grin was wholly eclipsed by a frown. Gary's attention returned to the lonely roadway.

Misty bleached. She had never intended to upset Gary. Pull an apology out of him, _sure_, but not . . . this. He didn't agree with Ash, did he?!

"Hey, you know I want you to be happy." Misty meant it.

"Of course I do." Sad-blue eyes landed upon sad-green ones. "But speaking of happiness . . ." Gary hesitated and strained a smile. "That brings me to ask, Flares, you gunna tell me what you and Ashy-boy were really fighting about? My happy-poke-power-couple-pals! It must've been somethin' beyond your 'mutual concern' over my bachelor lifestyle? C'mon, Ash slept on the couch and then left without telling you. Potentially putting himself and Pikachu in harms-way. There is more going on here that you're not sharing." Gary raised a professorly-scrutinizing eyebrow —studying Misty like one of his fossils— as though he could unearth her truth under his stare alone. "I know I haven't been there for you, Flares, but I'm right here. Right now. What's going on?"

_Touché,_ Misty thought, and released a long sigh. She watched several trees vanish as they whizzed past. She wanted this empty _feeling _to vanish into the past like those trees. If she couldn't confide in her best friend, then who could she confide in?

Sight still fixed on the flashes of fading foliage, Misty began: "Ash and I have been fighting a lot lately, and he's been sleeping on the couch a lot lately, too."

Gary sucked in a short breath, obviously surprised. "Since when?"

"It's been on and off for months now. It's just been worse lately. I didn't tell you because I'm _embarrassed_ about . . . _what's going on. _And I know Ash won't want to talk about it with anyone, especially you. He'd be mortified if he knew I was even . . . anyway, and then you lost Frank. You're dealing with his death, and your new job, so how can I stockpile more onto your plate with my problems? Talk about a shitty-friend. You obviously wanted space from me this past month. I'm trying to respect that. But it's been so hard being away from you. I'm just repeating myself over and over now, aren't I? I should just shut up." Misty tried to laugh, but it sounded as forced and hallow as it was.

Then there was heat. Gary lay a hand over hers. Misty looked down: his hand was so much larger, it obscured hers entirely atop the seat cushion. She shut her eyes, momentarily indulging. Gary's hand was like a quilt of warmth comforting her own. There was a callous on his palm (no doubt a paleontology souvenir) but that aside, his skin was as smooth as his suave-self. Misty peered up at her friend, catching the sincerity within his stare just as he refocused on the road again.

"I never wanted any space between us, Flares." Gary's words were so hushed they barely reached Misty's ears. "I didn't have a choice . . . I . . ." he stopped himself from elaborating, expression pained.

"What do you mean you 'didn't have a choice'?" The question came out louder than Misty intended, but his confession was as baffling as it was unexpected.

"That came out wrong." Gary replied quickly and retracted his hand from hers. Misty envied the steering wheel. "I meant that: I'm sorry again that I haven't been there for you and Ash. Trying to complete Oliver's workload has been _considerably overwhelming_. But, please, let me make my absence up to you. You've got all of my time and attention for the next five-hours and forty-three minuets. Countless women would kill for the opportunity." Misty made a gagging sound. "Ah, there's a noise Ash has never gotten out of you—"

"GARY!" Misty took a fisted-air-swing at him. "If you weren't driving I'd nail you."

"Something else Ash hasn't done for ya lately?"

"By Zapdos, I don't know whether to laugh, punch you or cry."

"Cry? C'mon, Flares, you and Ashy are the most sickeningly in-love pair of poke'-people I know. The perfect power couple who push me to put so many 'p's' into my paragraph."

Despite Gary's attempt at humor, a lump of emotion lodged in Misty's throat. It was like she'd eaten too many pancakes too quickly and she suddenly couldn't breathe. "I-I don't know if I can talk about Ash right now without crying. I'm really worried about him and totally furious with him at the same time."

"Listen, Flares, just take a deep breath. If you want to talk, I'm here. If not, I'll still be here later when you do. Everything will be fine, okay? By this time tomorrow you and Ash will be back home enjoying loads of make-up sex!"

Misty physically flinched at the word '_sex', _and her reaction did not go unnoticed by the professor.

"What?" Gary ventured, "sex . . . problems?"

Misty was thankful that Eevee was snoring on the backseat as she wouldn't want the pokémon to hear their adult conversation. Misty knew her cheeks were redder than her hair, but she spoke anyway: "That's one of the things we fight about." Misty braced herself—expecting Gary to make a joke— but to her genuine surprise, her friend only shrugged.

"You and Ash have been together your whole lives, Flares, it's natural for things to get stale. You just gotta spice it up, ya know?"

"You don't understand," the forthcoming admittance was like swallowing sand: "we don't know how. We don't know what we're doing."

"_What? Don't know what you're doing?" _Gary's shock shot down the steering wheel and the jeep reflexively jerked to the right. "Well, he sticks his—"  
"Yeah, we know _that part_, thanks."

"Is his 'pokey-man' unable to evolve?"

"No, no, no!" Misty was borderline yelling! "Nothing like that! Ash's 'poky-man' _works-err-evolves_ just fine!" Common sense harassed Misty to 'shut the hell up'. While confiding in Gary might feel personally relieving, Ash would never forgive her for sharing their intimate secrets. "By Mew, I need stop talking. This is too personal. I love Ash and he would be mortified if he knew I breathed a word of _this_. Especially to _you,_ of all people."

Gary opened his mouth and Misty hijacked his words: "Please don't speak, Gary. No comments needed. I don't want your advice. I regret saying anything. It was stupid of me!"

"But you barely said anything!" The jeep twitched to the left.

"Ash would feel so betrayed if he knew I even broached the topic. So, _please_, can we just pretend I didn't say anything?" Misty covered her face with her hands as though the act might hide her shame.

"I get 'protecting Ash's feelings', but what about yours? You obviously want to talk to me or you _wouldn't have _brought this up. _Talk to me_." This was not an offer, it was a demand.

"Let it go, Gary!" Misty's hands were no longer over her face, they were balled into fists. "Stop prying! I shouldn't have told you a damn thing!"

"You _didn't_ tell me a damn thing!" His delivery was drenched in mocking spite. "You've only left me to conclude that your sex life is garbage. Let me at least try to heIp. I might be able to offer some suggestio-—"

"No! What's your problem!?" Misty snapped his words like a verbal twig then set them ablaze: "STOP PRYING, GARY! If you really gave a shit about us, you wouldn't have disappeared for a month!"

Gary's jaw tightened along with his grip on the steering wheel. "But you know details about my sex life. You received a first-hand review from Christine. You've see the line of girls begging to get back into my bed." His voice changed. Ever-so-slightly. Lower tone. Guttural source. Producing an edge that effectively slit Misty's defense. "You know that _I'm fucking-good at fucking."_

Misty opened her mouth but no sound came, at least not from her. A faint growl emanated from the backseat. Misty didn't need to look. She knew it was Eevee. A bizarre reaction to their human quarrel. In fact, this entire scenario was bizarre. While Gary certainly thrived on teasing Misty, he never evasively prodded or intentionally made her feel so uncomfortable . . .vulnerable . . .

. . . his words were _almost_ as alarming as that _look _in his eyes last night.

_ Almost._

Eevee's growling was an ice-bath for their overheated emotions. The dog had effectively shut both humans up. Misty watched as the highway and terrain transformed. Two road lanes merged into one. Sporadic trees to countless trees. All foliage in the prime of autumn, bursting with yellows, reds and oranges like a charmander's tail. The single lane they rode in became surrounded by thick forests and high hills.

A heavy sigh escaped Misty. Whatever-the-hell had just happened needed to be addressed. She couldn't stand another friendship-wedge. She would splinter this wedge before anything got awkward.

But —as he was notorious for doing to Ash— Gary beat her to it. "Why not let me help you, Flares?" _Ah,_ there he was. The well-meaning, calm voice of her best friend. "I want to help you and Ash."

No more impulsive words. Misty responded with care. "I know you mean well and want to help, and I appreciate you for it, Gary, I really do. But my love life is not something I'm comfortable opening up about. At least not right now. Let's call a truce? You don't push me about Ash, and I won't push you on why you 'didn't have a choice' but to ghost me for a month." She infused her voice with appreciation. "I know you're hurting and you've been hurting on your own since Frank died. I want to be here for you. You don't have to mourn him alone. I can't image how horrible it was to loose him like you did, but if and when you're ready, I'm here. I'll always be your best friend and I'll always be here for you . . . no matter how douchy you are. And I hope you'll forgive me when I'm being douchy too."

"Always?" Gary's face darkened curiously. An odd reaction, as she thought he would laugh at the 'douchy' remark.

"Yes, _always_, because that's what best friends do. No expiration date on 'always'."

He recited the words like a chant: "Always, always, always . . ."

Misty felt her eyebrow raise, but she took the humorous reply-route: "Well, that's overly redundant, but yeah, buddy."

Gary stiffened unexplainably, rolling his neck as though he had a cramp. His fingers fidgeted upon the steering wheel and he reached for his coffee cup, throwing back whatever liquid remained. Misty pursed her lips, trying to figure out why he was agitated. She thought they'd shared a nice 'BFF moment' and cleared the air.

Eevee released a series of adorably rhythmic yawns and yaps from the backseat. _At least she enjoyed the 'BFF moment',_ Misty thought, then paused . . . Eevee's musical noises gave her an idea! Misty and Gary's favorite pastime (pokemon aside) was music. They loved singing karaoke together at _The Dancing Dratini. _They had also performed carpool karaoke duets while on long trips in the past (despite the fact that Ash complained of headaches). A sing-along was an ideal way to pass the time! Music was a perfect way to re-bond their friendship!

Misty reached for the radio dial and began scanning for a catchy tune.

_"-Electrode, Diglett, Nidoran, Mankey,Venusaur, Rattatta, Fearow, Pidgey, Seaking, Jolteon, Dragonite, Gastly, Ponyta, Vaporeon, Poliwrath, Butterfree! Catch 'em, catch 'em, gotta catch-" _

She changed the station. Though a timeless hit, she and Gary had already sang '_The Pokerap'_ quite enough times throughout the musical span of their friendship.

_"Jenny, oh Jenny! Joy, oh Joy! A one woman man's what I wanna be, but there's two perfect girls for me!" _

Misty cringed. While upbeat, Brock's one-hit-wonder wasn't quite what she was listening for either. She turned the dial again.

_"-I got. They say you don't really wanna fall in love. You don't really wanna mess this up-"_

"YAASSS!" Misty would have danced had the seatbelt not restrained her. She grabbed the water bottle from her backpack and held it like a microphone. Misty loved this song! It was one of the most trendy ear-worms on the radio today. She couldn't recall the singer's name, but she loved his energetic voice. Though the subject of the song was a downer, the guitar chords were so upbeat they lifted her face.

Misty faced her driver, 'microphone' poised, and joined in with the singer: "_You don't really wanna fall in love, cause falling in love just breaks your heart!"_

It worked. Gary laughed. Misty's enthusiastic-water-bottle-microphone performance drowned out his agitation.

There was a break in the singing for a guitar solo. Misty nudged Gary: "Oh, c'mon, boooyyyy, I _know_ you_ know_ the words to this one . . . and you're so up next!" She outstretched her 'microphone' to his lips, indicating that it was his turn to perform.

Phony concern played on Gary's features. He acted as though he were debating the pros and cons of stealing Misty's musical-thunder. But then — without missing a beat— he leaned into her 'microphone' and jumped in with the next verse of the song: "_If we kiss, if we touch . . ." _he made an exaggerated expression of despair_, "all of this . . . could get rough. Ain't no thing. Ain't no strings. Ain't no 'I love you, you love me', we won't get caught up in the stuff that breaks . . . Oh, no . . ._ your turn, Flares!"

Gary held his own coffee cup up to her lips, passing the next solo onto her.

Misty happily took up the leading role and sang full-force into his coffee cup: _"They say you don't really wanna fall in love! You don't really wanna mess this up. You don't really wanna fall in love, cause falling in love just breaks your heart—_ now together!" Misty shoved her water bottle under his mouth again.

The final repetition of the chorus was a duet: _"They say you don't really wanna fall in love! You don't really wanna mess this don't really wanna fall in love, cause falling in love just breaks your heart. You don't really wanna fall in love! You don't really wanna mess this up. You don't really wanna fall in love, cause falling in love just breaks your heart. Falling in love just breaks your heart . . . falling in love just broke my heart." _

The song ended and a commercial for _Ultra balls_ began. Gary beamed at Misty, playfully wrinkling his nose. Misty's face hurt from smiling.

"That was so fun and—_OH NO! _Eevee!" Misty shrieked, dropped her water bottle and pointed at the steering wheel.

Gary and Misty had been so consumed with their performance that neither one of them was paying attention to the roadway! Frantic little Eevee had reached over Gary's shoulder and was trying to steady the steering wheel with her paws! Gary gasped and seized the wheel with both hands. Eevee let out a squeal of relief and slid dramatically backward, retreating onto the rear seat again.

"Thank you, Eevee!" Misty clicked the radio off; then reached backward to stroke the little dog's chin. Eevee barked happily and closed her eyes, already content to return to her nap. Misty's heart beat like a butterfree was caged behind her ribs!

"I'm so sorry," Gary's face and words were colorless. "I'm sorry to you both. I can't believe I took my eyes off the road. I could have killed you both."

"And yourself," Misty added, "but no harm was done. I'm as much to blame for goading you into singing along. Lucky for us Eevee was paying attention."

Gary hands were white-knuckled on the wheel. Misty could only image his inner monologue — he would berate the hell out of himself until his hair matched his knuckles.

"Hey," Gary began, struggling to sound nonchalant. "Have you ever listened to the words of that song?"

"Um, yeah, it's sad, but just so catchy!" Misty mock-danced in her seat to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, the first verse is my favorite, but we missed that one. We tuned in too late."

Adrenaline had (apparently) fried Misty's memory. "Well, I'm drawing a blank on the lyrics, so why don't you sing them to me? A private serenade?" She asked through a yawn. The adrenaline had (apparently) fried her alertness too. "Oh, Oaky, you know I love your voice." Misty meant it. As a child Gary Oak had the most absurdly obnoxious speaking voice Misty had ever heard. Despite this, puberty had been really good to him. Like, lottery-winning-generosity-level good to him. Gary developed a pleasant masculine voice, both in speaking and singing. The waitresses at _The Dancing Dratini _described his voice as 'sexy'— which Gary loved, but Misty and Ash teased him about to no end. Misty certainly did not agree with the waitresses. At least not out loud.

Her musical pal pouted. "A serenade? Nah, maybe later. _If you ask me nicely," _he teased.

"Well, it's the least you can do for almost killing us," Misty was joking, but Gary was stoic.

Misty wanted to say something reassuring, but another yawn came out instead. "Oh, excuse me, I don't know why I'm so tired. I wasn't bangin' away all night like you." Misty was lying. She knew exactly why she was low on sleep. But she did not want Gary to know that his eyes were the source of her sleeplessness.

"Why don't you take a nap, Flares. We have a long ride ahead of us and a lot of physical excursion once we arrive. We're going deeper into the 'middle-of-nowhere' than our pokemon journeys ever took us."

"Hmm, when you put it that way, a small power-nap does sound smart. Just wake me up in like thirty minutes? Then I can take a turn driving, if you'd like? And you can sleep?"

"Tempting, but no. I won't be able to sleep. But I'll make a pitstop at a gas station shortly for caffeine and fuel. I'll nudge you then."

"Great, thanks." Misty unzipped her jacket, aiming for the ideal napping temperature. She reclined the seat, snuggled into the fabric and closed her eyes.

"Want me to play some music for you? Jigglypuff's greatest lullaby hits perhaps?"

Misty opened one eye. "Will you sing for me? Please!"

Gary scoffed with melodrama: "I thought you wanted_ to fall asleep_, not attract every stray mewoth in the mountains."

"Oh stop,_ 'Mr. Sexy Voice'. _Please sing for me?" Misty pressed her hands together like a beggar. "I can't remember how that song starts and it's driving me crazy. Your voice fits that song really well, too. I want that private serenade you promised me."  
"I did _not _promise you any such thing. But I did say your chances increased if you asked nicely."

"Pleeeeasssse, Gare-Bear?" Misty batted her lashes typical-girl-flirting-with-Gary-style.

Blue eyes rolled with sarcasm. "That's low, Flares._" _

Misty knew she'd won.

"Okay," Gary surrendered, "close your eyes. And jigglypuffs everywhere: eat your hearts out." He cleared his throat and began: _"It's so good, what we got. You and me, we laugh a lot. We're just friends. Simple as that. I don't want it to end, but I'm falling in love with the best friend I got . . ."_ His voice was clear, smooth and appealingly masculine. He hit each note easily, as though this song was one well-practiced. The waitresses at _The Dancing Dratini_ were correct: Gary Oak had a sexy voice, but more than that . . . it was pretty. Misty didn't know if Gary would want his voice described as 'pretty', but that word fit. It also described the carefree expression he adored while in song. Misty wished that his song would never end . . .

. . . until, she didn't.

Like the sudden onset of illness did the lyrics make her uneasy.

_"They say you don't really wanna fall in love. You don't really wanna mess this up. You don't really wanna fall in love, cause falling in love just breaks your heart-" _

"Hey, Gary?" Misty broke in. He raised an eyebrow while keeping his focus on the road. "Thanks for jogging my memory on the lyrics, but this song is too upbeat. It makes me wanna dance. I can't fall asleep. Can you sing more of a slow song?"

"Your wish is my command," he razzed, "any requests?"

"Just something sweet and soothing."

"Alright, a song that's sweet and soothing. Got it. Oliver loved this one. It was special to him and Bonnie." Misty held her breath, unprepared for Gary to choose a sentimental song. She was in suspense as to what the song could be, but, Gary did not keep her there for long: "_Wise men say 'only fools rush in'. But I can't help falling in love with you." _

Emotion loomed over Misty like a restless ghost. Professor Oliver Frank loved his wife. But he had died and left her all alone. Misty imagined the poor widow's sorrow. Her heartbreak. Her devastation. Then Misty thought of herself. That one day she could face losing the man she loved. It was a grievous loss too crushing to contemplate. Misty wondered if her own heart could endure such pain? Could her heart continue to exist in a world without . . . without . . . Ash.

_ "Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you? Like a river flows, surly to the sea, darling so it goes . . . some things are meant to be. So take my hand, take my whole life too. For I can't help falling in love with you. Oh, I can't help falling in . . . love . . . with you. . ."_

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NOTE: I'm still working hard on this story! The holiday season got me craaaazzzzyyy-busy! I hope you enjoyed this update. As always, _please_ leave a review. Your reviews truly support my story. =) Your comments fuel my fingers on the keyboard and ignite my imagination! Thank you all so much for reading. As a gift, I have just uploaded ::::new story art:::: by Wooserr on my website (egoshipper dot com) and my instagram: maias_pen

Insta is also the best way to communicate with me. The art is called 'Carpool Karaoke' and I commissioned it JUST for this chapter. You'll see what I mean when ya see it! ;)

All the best, Maia's Pen

*The songs featured in the chapter were all real. Credit to the non-pokmeon songs goes to:

Matt White ('Falling In Love') and Elvis Presley ("Can't Help Falling In Love"), though I prefer the Joseph Vincent version.


	5. Chapter 4

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter contains some sexual language and curse words that some may find uncomfortable.

Chapter 4

Gary wasn't a saint, but he had _always_ been a man of self-discipline and integrity.

_Always always always._

After all, he was raised by the most scrupulous man he knew. Professor Samuel Oak had taught him far more than Pokemon science. Gary's grandfather coached him to smackdown impure impulses like a Primeape would whack a newly hatched Diglett into a hole. Okay, so Gary wasn't exactly at 'Sam-Oak-impulse-control-level'. So he left a battlefield of broken-hearts in his wake, but Gary had always been upfront with the women he dated about his bachelor lifestyle. It wasn't his fault they often hoped for more. Despite his healthy libido, he had always been able to control his inner urges like a Pokemon Master commands a Weedle. The head on his shoulders was in command of southern one. Sex did not distract from work or social life and visa-versa. At least . . . all of that use to be true.

Right now, Gary was having a _hard _time driving in a straight line. _Hard_ as in his cock was harder than a Steelix's hide. And this _hard_ inconvenience was not a singular incident. He'd been hornier than a Slowpoke-in-heat for almost a month. His cock didn't have a mind for appropriateness, either. If he were even near an attractive woman he just wanted to —_needed to — _get as naked as possible as quickly as possible.

But Gary didn't have time to psychoanalyze himself properly right now. He was sleep-deprived. He was dehydrated. His head was aching like a Primeape _had_ used him to play whack-a-Diglett, and —_by Moltres' Mercy— _was he ever horny!

Misty was snoozing in the passenger's seat beside him. Her image pulled on his focus. He wished her hand were pulling on his — _c'mon, Oak, no! Off limits. Focus! _

His friend had been asleep for about thirty minuets. These thirty minutes were an eternity for his groin. The young professor shifted uncomfortably, his pants failing to accommodate his arousal.

"Dammit." Gary cursed under his breath. He was starting to sweat. He noted the increase in his breathing rate and (with some difficulty across the steering wheel) took his own pulse: it was racing like he'd just out-kicked a Hitmonlee. _This _was why he had kept his distance from Ash and Misty for the past month. He had no desire for fruitless social interaction. He only desired studying and sex. And, more so, he didn't trust himself around Misty. He hadn't wanted put himself in the position where he might _accidentally _come on to _her_.

Misty was curled up and facing him. Thankfully those enticing-green eyes were closed. Gary's singing was apparently like audible melatonin. His rendition of "Can't Help Falling In Love" had knocked her out Jigglypuff-style. Misty's sleeping-pose was innocent enough . . . until blue eyes fixated on pink lips. Pink, plump and parted . . . just slightly parted. Gary licked his own lips, they felt very dry, and he refocused on the roadway. The road was old, worn and full of potholes. Round potholes . . . round like . . . Gary's sight twitched to Misty again. Her yellow jacket was unzipped. The seatbelt strap was nestled directly between her breasts, and it was pulling the fabric of her t-shirt _very tight_. Gary's jaw and groin tightened in unison.

The young professor was usually an expert on redirecting his thoughts. He needed to call on this skill now. Right now! What could he think about that was highly unsexy? Well, there was always paleontology! And so Gary opted to think about his paleontology workload verses the load building up between his legs. He thought about his Oak Canine 1; then of The Moltralous and on what trouble stupid Ash could be causing at _his _worksite. By Moltres, hopefully stupid Ash wouldn't get arrested for trespassing on private property. Though maybe it would do him some good if he did. Hopefully the dumbass wouldn't get hurt or worse or . . . . . . Gary paused, his eyes betraying him again . . .

. . . did Ash appreciate Misty's breasts?

That unzipped jacket revealed more than a Poliwag t-shirt. The chilly temperature had caused Misty's nipples to peak. Those gorgeous tits deserved better than whatever sloppy treatment Ash had been disappointing them with. Ketchum was probably clueless on how to touch her properly and—_whoaaa! What the HELL, Oak!?_

Cerulean sight volleyed to Eevee, and Gary thanked Moltres that his dog was also out cold. Moltres-forbid that Eevee suspected his raging boner! If the pokemon so much as stirred it would be 'get-in-your-pokeball-NOW-time'.

A dreamy-sigh from the passenger's seat snagged Gary's attention again. Misty nuzzled into the seat cushion. His chest was envious of that seat cushion. A wisp of ginger-hair fell across her cheek, sticking to her lips. His dick was envious of that hair— _stop it! _

The roadway needed Gary's absolute attention. He had neglected his driving responsibilities earlier and poor little Eevee had to save their asses. There was no excuse for negligence when it came to safety. _Safety over singing and safety over sex! _Gary's intentions were steadfast. _Yeah, that will be my new motto. Moltres, help me, I don't want to kill the two most important girls in my life. _

Eevee and Misty were incomparably precious to him. Gary could not imagine his life without either of these special friends in it.

Pokémon Friend Breakdown: Gary had met Eevee three-years ago while on a research expedition. He didn't need to catch her, she followed him around like an adorable wild shadow, easily capturing his heart. The two became fast-friends and Gary invited her to be his pokémon. Eevee willingly hopped into a Pokeball and —fast-forward to today— Gary took her everywhere. He did carry stones of leaf, water, fire, ice, and thunder in the pocket of his backpack. These stones went everywhere Eevee went, but not because Gary aimed to evolve her into one particular type. Eevee had expressed that she preferred stay as she was: a normal-type. Gary had no problem with Eevee's disinterest in evolution. He loved her as she was— she was his companion first and foremost. He only battled out of necessity these days. _But,_ having Eevee around sparked an idea in his mind. Gary proposed to her that: she stay an Eevee, but, should ever there be an emergency scenario —where Gary desperately _needed _a specific pokémon type — would she evolve for him then? Eevee did not hesitate. She nodded. _Yes, _she would agree to evolve anytime if it meant helping Gary. Their pact was a source of security in his mind. As an active researcher Gary traveled the world and often found himself in dangerous situations. Before Eevee came along he'd almost drowned _and_ almost frozen to death (in the name of science, of course!). These 'almosts' could have been avoided with a Vaporeon or Flareon around. Granted, Gary had lots of other pokémon companions, but he didn't always travel with every possible type in his pack. That's why 'emergencies' were called 'emergencies' — the universe didn't give a heads-up on how to prepare for them.

Girlfriend Breakdown—_no, _not like _that. _Rather-BFF-that-is-a-girl Breakdown. . . . so 'Girl Friend' Breakdown . . . _Fuck it. _

Gary could sing his feelings out loud, but he could never speak them. His feelings for Misty weren't 'BFF appropriate'. His feelings for her were real ones. Strong ones. Weight-of-the-world-strong. So strong that he'd battled them tirelessly for fifteen years. Oliver had called him out on them within his final living moments, but Gary had played dumb toward his mentor. He'd had a crush on Misty since he was ten-years-old. But it was always obvious that she only had eyes for Ash, and so he'd squelched that crush. Or he tried to. Turns-out his 'Pokemon Master' journey was not his biggest failure after all. He counted himself very lucky to call Ash and Misty his best friends. Being around them, and knowing they were happy, made him happy. At least . . . it used to. Misty's non-straightforward-confession that there was 'trouble in paradise' was now torturing him. Just like her breasts were torturing him. Just like her lips were torturing him. He needed to know what was going on (or rather not going on) between Ash and Misty. The mystery superseded even The Moltralous in his mind!

Gary glanced at Misty's lips again. What did her mouth _taste _like? What did those pink lips _feel_ like? Did she have any idea how _fucking sexy_ her mouth was? How many pleasure possibilities her mouth presented for his mind? Did she have any idea how her lips tormented him— ruthlessly— and without even trying? _Imagine if she did try . . .?_ Had she ever figured out how to use those lips on Ash's lips? On Ash's—Gary flinched, unable to complete the notion. Misty had such a tiny mouth for someone so loud and obnoxious. Come to think of it . . . her small mouth was probably adequate for whatever Ash was packing. But, could she take _him_ in? For certain she would gag on his size. Most girls did. Well, except for those gifted-non-gag-reflex few of course. He imaged his fingers in her hair— holding her head down— her eyes wide, watering, lusty-green as she stared up at him; her mouth utterly-stuffed with— _Moltres help me! I have to stop. I can't defile Misty like this in my mind! _

Misty was innocent compared to most of the girls Gary knew. Ash had been her 'one and only' _everything_. The only guy to kiss her. The only guy to touch her. The only guy to see her naked.

Daydreams about kissing Misty had teased his imagination for years. But never depraved delusions like these. Kissing her freckles was a favorite fantasy. Misty had three freckles on either side of her nose, high on each cheek. They were adorable and he wished that he could tell her so. Misty disliked her freckles and often tried to cover them with make-up. Gary was happy that she'd left her face naked today. Her cheeks were in all their freckle-glory against her pale cheeks. Gary had often wondered how many other freckles lay hidden on her body? He'd love to put his professional exploration talents to use and play 'freckle detective'. He was confident that he could find and kiss them all . . .that way Misty would know that he loved every mark on her. Even the marks she did not.

Gary bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. There was always relief in the pain. _Always, always—you just need to get laid, Oak, _Gary coached himself, _and Flares is off the table_._ Shame on you, you'll find someone else. You always do. Always, always, always._

_Okay_, so, maybe now _was_ the time to psychoanalyze himself after all. Was he qualified to self-diagnose in any realm of psychology? No. But this constant horned-up state was maddening. He relied on sexual-release to free his consciousness. In fact: he _needed _sex to function. He needed sex even more than he needed sleep_._ Work was so damn stressful that sex seemed to be the only solution to ease his anxiety. The rougher the ride the more rapidly he could release the days impossible research demands.

A night without sex meant that Gary was plagued with an unending headache and the inability to focus on the simple tasks. But even when he did have a partner who shared his x-rated desires . . . even when he was able to find sleep . . . the peace was fleeting. During Gary's rest-periods his mind punished him with nightmares — visions so heinous that he would jolt upward, sweating, panting and heart pounding as though he were nearing cardia arrest! Sometimes he was five-years-old again, being stalked by a demon within the darkness of gramps' cellar. And other times he was back in that damn cave— watching Oliver fall and failing to revive him all over again. Sometimes the cave drawings would come to life, and they would reach for him. Their intent was a mystery . . . were they aiming to strangle him? Drown him? Worse? Mercy always woke him before the wretched creatures had their way.

But, when the adrenaline cleared, at least Gary could focus again. He could dive into his research and be the productive scientist that Oliver and his gramps had trained him to become.

No sex meant functioning like a zombie. And Zombie Gary meant that none of Oliver's work — now Gary's work — was receiving his quality attention. And this work deserved his quality attention just like a woman's body did.

Gary had already accepted that sleep and sex were unlikely tonight thanks to Ash and his dramatic escapade. That meant Gary needed to stick his cock in an ice-bath or jerk off, and then damn-well try to focus on driving. _Fuck_, he didn't have an ice-bath handy and he couldn't very well start cranking it right now. Misty or Eevee was bound to wake up and catch him in the act. He'd have to wait until he reached the gas station. It was less than a ten minute drive down the road. Once there he could lock himself in the bathroom and tame the excruciatingly-swollen Steelix in his pants. It wouldn't be as gratifying as real sex, but Gary hoped it would sate him until he got Ash and Misty back to their home.

Okay, so, psychology fail. Back to paleontology. Better to stick with the science that he knew. The professor just needed to think about his non-sexy-work until that gas station appeared. The very subject of his research was dark. It was brutal, and unbearably so. It was yet undetermined why the Moltralous and their pokemon disappeared from existence — and it was Oliver's life-goal to figure out why such a prosperous, wildly-spread people vanished from history in the blink of an eye. After hundreds of hours spent studying the cave drawings, Gary suspected that the entire civilization wiped themselves from the map. But he could not establish a motive.

Since Oliver's death, Gary had been living in an RV at the mouth of the cavern. He had put many-a-mile on his jeep communting from he cave site to civilization in order to find female companions over these past weeks. The professor explored the caverns almost daily, and the deeper he ventured the more heinous the cave drawings became. The caverns both fascinated and terrified Gary. His wealthy, anonymous new employer was just as interested in the disappearance of The Moltralous as Oliver was. Therefore, at seventy years of age, Oliver was finally offered his dream job. This private investor funded everything — providing Oliver with all the research equipment and monetary support he could need. He got to explore uncharted Moltralous caves and be paid a fortune to do it. Like other Moltralous caves sprinkled across Kanto, these newly discovered caves initially showcased common hieroglyphics. Images of native people hunting, fishing, playing with pokemon and worshiping Moltres. The symbols and writing boasted of their thriving lands and happy people. They resourcefully mined red ochre from the caves to create their drawings. But, as Oliver's research team explored deeper, the cave drawings turned . . . sinister. Oliver was surrounded by those terrible cave drawings — the same ones that kept Gary up at night.

Gary missed his mentor. There were so many times over the past weeks that he'd start to call him and then . . . reality crushed him harder than any Onix's Rockthrow. Gary took over Oliver's research expedition twenty-one days ago — the day after Oliver was buried. Three weeks without Oliver. Three weeks struggling to finish the master's work. Three weeks consumed by a relentless cycle of exhaustion, lust and terror and guilt for failing to save him. Gary wished that he could forget the Moltralous and their caves forever. He wish he could forget the salacious, nasty man that Oliver had become before he died. But Gary could not forget either, and he had to persevere. He had to complete the research project that Oliver was hired to do. He owed it to the memory of the great man who had been his friend for years, not the crazy asshole he died as. Gary owed it to Bonnie, Oliver's widow. Bonnie was counting on a large payout from Gary's boss upon the completion of the project. Money could not heal her devastation from having her cheating husband die. But money could help her move on and live out her years in peace.

Gary flicked his eyes away from the roadway and toward Misty again. Thinking about Oliver had actually subdued his hormones for a few moments. But, those moments passed like a Butterfree in a windstorm. Now his groin was as awake as he was again. _He just couldn't stop looking . ._ . Misty must have been freezing. Her nipples were as hard and erect as he was.

"What are you _looking_ at?!"

Gary's sight snapped upward. Misty peered at him with one eyebrow cocked.

Blue sight sought the roadway again.

"I was just verifying that your seatbelt was secured properly. You've been shifting around a lot in your sleep, ya know." Gary applauded himself inwardly — his delivery was as firm as his— _oh shit— _he lay large concealing hand across his lap.

Misty's was silent. Had she accepted Gary's explanation? He dared a glance. Misty's eyebrow-of-scrutiny remained.

"What?"Gary infused the question with nonchalance.

"Are you feeling okay? Your face is flushed." Misty's palm found his cheek and testosterone flooded his bloodstream. But that wasn't all. Her palm was a powerful magnet for his heavy mind. Gary pressed his cheek into her hand. He wanted to relax into her grasp . . . surrender his thoughts, release his body . . .

Little fingers roamed upward to assess his forehead. "You're hot, Gary."  
"Thank you," his teasing grin was met with an eye roll, but Misty did not retract her touch. Rather, her fingers migrated to his neck and she began to squeeze and rub him. Euphoria dissolved his muscles as she massaged them.

"You're _so _stiff," Misty uttered as her fingers seduced his neck.

In an effort _not to_ admit how correct she was: Gary clenched his jaw so hard his sinuses popped.

"I think you're running a fever, Gary, even the muscles in your neck feel inflamed." Her fingers continued to knead his flesh. Misty had some tantalizing power in those little fingers. Her gesture of sweet concern agonized his groin. Those innocent fingers would soon yield sinful results . . . she _needed _to stop. If she didn't . . . if he tried to touch her . . . _no!_ It was a forbidden action and one that Gary could not take back. One that would ruin them.

"Please, Flares, _don't touch me._" His inflection was desperate like a last request.

Misty's hand and voice went ridged. "Gary? Wh-why?"

Gary could not bring himself to look at her. The roadway finally won.

"I'm sorry, Flares, it's not you. I can't explain, so please, just don**'**t ask."

Misty retract her hand as though his fevered skin had burned her. Her attention joined his on the roadway. Her uncharacteristic silence was nearly as torturous as her touch.

"I'm just tired, okay? It's not you."

"Okay . . . I can drive, too, you know."

"No need, but thanks for offering, there's a gas station just ahead, I just need to use the bathroom and get a coffee. That'll perk me up." The professor poured optimism into every word. "Save your concern for Ketchum, cuz he'll need it once I'm done reaming his ass out."

"Get in line. I wish there was a pokeball that could catch and contain Ash." Misty delivered the line deadpan, but Gary laughed as he imagined Ash being sucked into a scarlet blaze and trapped within a ball.

"Catching Ketchum. I'd kill for the opportunity!" Their banter was slightly forced, but a relief. "Anyway, FYI, Flares, this gas station is the last shred of civilization until we hit the cave site. We're only about eighty miles out now— and here we are . . ."

The timing was merciful. The gas station appeared to the right. It was a small no-name 'mom and pop' type of place. The building was painted an ashen-gray and it peeled like sunburned skin from the doorframe. Some local kid had spray-painted 'DOUG WAS HERE!' above a window. Gary was always tempted to add 'ASH IS A LOSER' below it, but he curbed his impulsive nostalgia. The single gas pump was antique-looking, it must have been installed before Gary was even born. There was no slot for a credit card transaction. This place was 'cash only'. The young professor stopped here frequently as it was the only place to 'shop' within one hundred miles of the Moltralous site. 'Shop' was a generous word as the shelves were nearly barren. There were some dusty-nearly-out-dated canned goods, boxes of stale cereal and a candy rack filled with raisin and peanut chews. It was the type of 'candy' that his gramps called 'nature's treats'. On the flip side: the fridge usually had unexpired milk, eggs and often some fruit. The owner, Old Milly, made a strong cup of coffee and her pot was always full. Gary was thankful for Old Milly's coffee because he sure-as-hell needed it today.

Gary rolled the jeep into one of the parking spaces. Misty excused herself and headed inside to find the ladies-room.

Eevee perked up, chirping with cheer for the opportunity to stretch her legs.

"You can walk around outside, Eevee. I'll be right back," Gary explained, rolling the rear window down so that his pokemon could easily jump in and out (which she did instantly).

Gary waited to stand up until Misty had vanished inside. There was no hiding his hulking erection. He pulled his sweatshirt down as far as it would go and waddled Psyduck-style into the shop. Old Milly waved at him curiously as he ducked into the mens-room.

The mens-room was a single toilet private room — _thank Moltres_— because Gary did not want an audience for his forthcoming masturbation session.

Old Milly wasn't much of a housekeeper. The bathroom reeked of mold and the walls and celling were a refugee camp for cobwebs. The mirror was cracked down the middle and smeared with greasy fingerprints. Gary ignored his reflection because he knew his eyes would reflect the truest filth in the room.

He locked the door and he swore. Christine had thoroughly drained his balls last night. The sex was satisfying. He'd even slept a little-nightmarish-sleep. So what was wrong with him? Why was he —_Professor Gary Oak_— about to jerk off into a dirty gas station toilet?!

He didn't have time to indulge his shame.

Gary flipped his reflection the middle finger and pulled down his joggers.

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Misty wasn't known for her patience. Gary had been in the bathroom for _at least_ ten minutes. To pass the time she picked Eevee's stray brown hairs off the jeep's console. Then she groomed the front seats. Next the seatbelts. She reckoned she was putting his vacuum out-of-business.

Once the front of the jeep was thoroughly de-Eevee-haired Misty turned her attention to the shop's doorway. Surly her BFF would come waltzing out any second! What was taking him so long? Did that breakfast wrap upset his stomach or something?! Did he have too much coffee?! Gary most certainly wasn't feeling well— his skin had been fevered under her fingers.

"He probably caught a nasty genital infection from Christine," Misty snarked out-loud.

Eevee yapped from the backseat, thrilled that Misty was chatting with her. Thankfully the pokémon was clueless as to what a 'genital infection' was. At least she hoped so!

The human and pokémon duo now became a pair of Hoothoots — unblinking at the shop's door with anticipation of Gary's appearance. Misty was about to go pound on the bathroom door when a wild mane of cinnamon-spikes emerged.

Gary's entire demeanor was as untamed as his hair. Misty was used to her professor pal being the epitome of 'neatness and order', but right now . . . Gary looked overdue for a spa day.

Despite appearing feral his thoughtfulness was as tamed as ever. He held a coffee in each hand an apple poked out of each pant-pocket. Misty leaned across the seat to open the door for him.

The rich aroma of coffee embraced Misty. Gary placed a cup in her hands and his cheeks dimpled. And those cheeks were redder than a Magmar wearing a Mr. Mime's rouge. His pupils were noticeably dilated, darkness nearly eclipsing the beautiful blue.

"Hey," Gary greeted her, his tone teasing, "I brought you your favorite coffee-flavored-fake-sugar-milk."

The smirk was as welcome on her lips as the caffeine on her tongue. Gary knew exactly how she liked her coffee: so much milk and sweetener that the liquid was off-white. Misty indulged in a long sip. _Perfection. _

Gary hunkered down in the driver's-seat. Eevee appeared at once, leaning over the headrest to lick his face. The dog pokemon drew a genuine laugh from Gary. It was one of Misty's favorite sounds.

"Here ya go, girl," Gary pulled an apple from his left pant pocket. Eevee snatched the fruit and skittered to the backseat to devour it. "And one for you, Flares," he withdrew a second apple from his right pocket for her.

"Thank you," Misty gladly accepted the snack.

The ignition hummed to life and Gary pulled the jeep up to the solo gas pump. The pumping station looked older than Professor Oak Senior. Gary must have pre-paid as there as no credit card reader. Her BFF excused himself and proceeded to fill the jeep's tank.

The apple beckoned Misty's tastebuds. It was a shiny inviting-shade of red and she needed to taste it now! Her teeth broke the skin with a satisfying _snap! _The fruit tasted of autumn, as though it had been freshly plucked from an orchard tree. Misty knew that apple juice was dripping down her chin and she did not care! The flavor was worth the sticky mess!

Gary returned to his driver's-seat. He was about to start the ignition, but glanced apple-munching-Misty up and down and paused.

"Wha-what?" Her question emerged between moist bites.

When Gary didn't say anything, Misty sought out his eyes for an answer.

Like black coffee seeping through blue cashmere did his pupils expand before her own. "You need to zip up your jacket, Flares. You'll catch a cold." His words dripped as hotly as the spilled brew in his eyes.

"Zip up?" Misty swallowed hard on apple, forcing bravado into her voice. "But I'm not cold. What's your problem?"

"Zip it." Gary's words drizzled into her ears like auditory oil, threatening to combust her composure at any moment. "Zip. Your. Jacket. Now."

"You zip _your_ mouth!" Misty spat — equal parts apple juice and words. "How dare you try and boss me around!"

"Well, at least wipe your chin. It's sticky-looking."

"You're sticky-looking!"

Gary blinked, her poor comeback effectively watering-down the potency of his stare. He huffed, biting down on whatever rude words threatened his tongue.

Misty took a huge glutenous bite from her apple. She chewed like a Primeape and was proud of it! Gary looked as though he'd accidentally kissed a Primeape— utterly disgusted by her lip-smacking! But then another curious emotion hitched within his eyes. Blue spotlights zeroed-in on her lips. Gary's large thumb found the corner of her mouth. He pressed down as though he was trying to brand his thumbprint into her skin.

"You've been very sloppy, Flares," he spoke the words like a shameful secret; blue eyes holding green ones hostage again, "now there's apple on your lip."

Gary's thumb dragged slowly across Misty' bottom lip, pulling down, exposing her bottom teeth. His thumb-pad grazed against her enamel. Apple juice blended with the salt of his skin. The taste was astonishingly-pleasant . . . sinfully so. Misty suffocated the urge to suck his thumb like a slice of fruit.

Her best friend was devastatingly handsome. Those thick dark lashes popped against the backdrop azure. Even tired and fevered his features belonged on the cover of a magazine. He was sultry, sexy, masculine perfection. And right now his expression was covetous. Gary stared at Misty as though _she _was the apple and he wanted to . . . wanted to . . . the muscles in her abdomen clenched against her will. _This_ was why he made stupid girls like Christine lose their dammed minds. So many countless stupid, foolish, pathetic girls. They were stupid and so was he! Gary had acted super weird every time they'd made physical contact today — recoiling as though she were contagious with a plaque! And yet it was _his thumb _currently resting upon her bottom lip! What the hell!

Misty knew her cheeks were redder than the apple. She cursed her skin for betraying her and slapped Gary's hand away.

"Yuck!" Misty shrieked as though he were a Weedle! "I hope you washed your hands after blowing up the bathroom!" Her squeal slapped the stupid out of Gary.

"You doubt my hygiene?" Gary chuckled, shaking his head as he started the jeep and rolled back onto the road.

"Well, your hands are probably cleaner than _other _parts of your body." Misty had intended to deliver the line with jest, but bitterness laced it.

"Concerned for my manhood? Aww, thanks, Flares, I'm touched."

"Yeah, that's the problem. Touched way too many times."

"My dates wash their hands too."

"Great. I hope they wash their—"

"—Yep. Your concern for my cleanliness is truly appreciated, Flares. So what do you really want to ask me?" His tone was classic-condescending-Gary-Oak. "Do you want to know if I have an STD? Well, just ask me. Stop being a passive-aggressive snot."

"So the pot calls the kettle! Well do you?" Misty snapped so loudly that Eevee cried out. The redhead instantly regretted her flash of temper. Truth be told she didn't know why she was being so hard on Gary, or why the status of his sexual health suddenly mattered— because it didn't! In no way at all was it any of her business! She did not give a Slowpoke's-shit if his dick was so diseased it rotted off! She was just so frustrated with him— with Ash— with everything!

"No, Flares. My manhood is sparklingly clean and healthy, but thank you for asking. You're a dear friend to worry." Gary's tone delivered more artificial-sweetener than her coffee.

Misty was done with their biting wordplay. _She hated this._ It wasn't like them to get so nasty with one another — their friendship wasn't like that. Misty busied her attention outside the window. The road rapidly transformed from two paved lanes into a single dirt trail. No wonder Gary needed a jeep. He wouldn't be able to make the commute without four-wheel-drive.

Despite their cutting banter, Gary's fevered skin _and _extended bathroom-time still concerned Misty. She took a calming breath and turned toward him: "Seriously, Gary, are you okay? You _were_ in the bathroom for a really long time."

"I was busy jerking-off like my life depended on it." He delivered the joke so matter-of-factly that Misty had to giggle.

"Gross. Nice cover-up attempt. I know you were either puking or blowing it up. You gunna be okay?"

Gary released a sigh of surrender. "Okay,_ fine,_ you got me. The breakfast wrap didn't agree with me. Can we drop it now? By Moltres, you are intrusive, Flares."

"So you're okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay, mommy, stop nagging me. You've been hangin' around Delia too much," Gary mocked, referring to Ash's over-the-top-nosey mother.

Misty made a snarky face at her friend — which the corner of his eye caught. Gary retaliated with a flash of tongue.

"Keep that rude tongue to yourself, Oak!"

"No promises."

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It was three-o'clock in the afternoon when Gary, Misty and Eevee pulled into The Moltralous archeological site. The autumn forrest spread before Misty's eyes— it was like Moltres himself had set the entire landscape a blaze! Misty had never seen such a spectrum of blazing-red and explosive-copper trees. They were in the foothills of an extensive mountain range, and the peaks of more than a dozen rocky giants loomed in the distance. Gary had not been exaggerating. This site was truly out in the middle-of-nowhere. Not once throughout her old 'pokémon journey days' had Misty ever felt so isolated from civilization.

The archaeological site before them was a highly unnatural piece within this serene nature scene. Their jeep began crossing an extensive gravel parking lot. The lot was easily the size of a pokémon battle arena. Misty immediately began scanning the area for any signs of Ash or Pikachu. Her sight fell upon a large white canopy with several folding tables and chairs beneath. A huge modern RV was parked beside the canopy. The RV was probably black, but the quilt of dust settling upon it caused the color to appear more grey-ish. The unit was long, about five-jeep's in length. Misty knew at once that this RV was the place that Gary had been calling home for the past month. His new employer set him up here so that he could 'paleontology-away' twenty-four-seven. Stationed here Gary was at his employer's beck and call.

_It must be really lonely here,_ Misty thought sadly. She hadn't realized that Gary's RV would be the only RV.

But their jeep wasn't the only jeep. Misty noticed a red one idling beside the RV.

So: canopy, tables, chairs, red jeep, huge RV . . . no Ash or Pikachu.

"There's the cave mouth," Gary's voice balanced pride and foreboding.

Misty strained upward against her seatbelt to look. Gary gestured toward several boulders — size-wise they resembled some Graveler's napping in a pile. There was no large crack in the earth, no mountainside yawing open . . . Misty's imagination had built the cave opening up to be some gaping, enormous entryway into the core of the earth. She envisioned a mammoth spectacle— a cavern so large they could ride an Onix within. The actual entryway into the cave was so narrow they'd have to suck in their belly's just to slip inside.

Noticing the other jeep, Gary decelerated his vehicle to pull up alongside its red twin. There was a pixie-cutted-platinum-blond woman sitting at the wheel. Her bangs fell over the lenses of some seriously-blinged-out sunglasses. The woman's body language radiated agitation as she spoke into a walkie-talkie. Upon noticing Gary's jeep she ended her walkie-talkie conversation.

"That's the sight manager, Miss Tekcor." Gary explained while removing his seatbelt. "She must've gotten my message about Ash."

Miss Tekcor exited her jeep and faced them. Misty's jaw nearly came unhinged . . .the woman was absolutely gorgeous. She had squeezed her fit, curvy figure into the tightest pair of bedazzled-silver hot pants Misty had ever seen. Her golden-sequenced mid-drift was so shiny it put Misty's Staryu to shame! And speaking of 'shame' . . . how about her entire outfit! Miss Tekcor was dressed for a dance club. Her attire was completely inappropriate (and just downright dangerous!) to wear on an archaeological digging site! Well, at least she _was_ wearing boots. Although her black footgear was _high-heeled _and_ thigh-high_!

Upon seeing Gary Miss Tekcor flaunted a smile as dazzling as her outfit . . . a very familiar smile.

Then she removed her sunglasses and her blue eyes twinkled with the luster of lies. _You have got to be kidding me. _

Gary matched Miss Tekcor's expression. He opened his door — preparing to blast off and greet her— but Misty grabbed his forearm, constricting him Tentacruel-style.

Oh, yes . . . this woman _was_ gorgeous, fit, curvy and shiny. And her blond-wig must have cost big bucks — it was manufactured, fake-perfection. Her costume budget had obviously increased. Her cosmetic budget must have also soared like Moltres himself! She either had the best genetics in human history _or _the best plastic surgeon . . . she hadn't aged a day since Misty had last laid eyes on her. That was over a decade ago.

"Wait!" Misty's hissed. Her Tentacruel-grip tightened, effectively halting Gary from leaving the jeep. "Don't you recognize her?!"  
Gary squinted at Miss Tekcor, shrugged, and then glared at Misty. "_Duh_, she's my site manager. I work with her almost every day."  
Paleontology digging tools were crap compared to Misty's fingernails! She dug into his forearm as though it would excavate the obvious from his brain!

"GARY! Look at her! That's Jessie from Team Rocket!"

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! More so: I hope that everyone is staying safe and healthy during this scary time in the world. It is my wish that my story will grant your mind a little 'reprieve from reality', as that is the gift that writing this chapter has given me. I look forward to reading your reviews on this chapter! What are your thoughts? Please share!

Best wishes that you all stay well, Maia's Pen


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